


magnetism

by chaoticspaces



Category: Kim Possible - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticspaces/pseuds/chaoticspaces
Summary: Kim never expected Shego to take her hand after she offered it. The woman was a comet with a lonely orbit, never looking to make contact, but old habits change with new threats. As they untangle their own places on this post-invasion planet, Kim and Shego struggle with the dizzying gravity that blossoms between them - and how it will inevitably connect their lives forever. KiGo.





	1. first contact

**Author's Note:**

> (also posted on ff.net)
> 
>  
> 
> magnetism (n.) a physical phenomenon produced by the motion of electric charge, resulting in attractive and repulsive forces between objects

Two in the morning, and Brussels is fast asleep. The drone of passing cars has turned into a hum, soft and sedate, and the murmur of pedestrian traffic has slowed to a crawl. Modern lights wash against ancient buildings and cast strange shadows. In the center of the city, the Royal Palace is tall and stoic, its lights shut off until morning as the royal family commute to their lavish home on the outskirts of the district.

In the quiet of the night, no one noticed a lone figure leaping their way onto the roof, and certainly didn’t notice as they disappeared into the ventilation shaft.

 _Why do royals always think they can get away with godawful security?_ Shego huffs a quiet breath. Her catsuit makes only a whisper of sound as she pulls herself through the maze. _You’d think after they get enough of their shit taken, they’d wise up._

Behind her goggles, the scintillating glint of the diamond is almost blinding. It lies embedded in a white-gold necklace, the size of a baby’s fist, even more gaudy than when she saw it on the neck of the Belgian consort a week ago. From the vent in the ceiling, it’s easy to see the complex net of laser-grids that surround it, padded by pressure-sensitive flooring and swivelling security cameras.

 _Amateurs,_ Shego peers down into the abyss, blinking behind the military-grade specs, _they don’t even have audio-sensitive alarms. It’s like they’re begging for it to be stolen._

She attaches her grappling hook to the edge of the vent, leaning back into the void. Her hair, braided and thrown over one shoulder to avoid the lasers, glints emerald in the low light cast by her blinking equipment. The guard comes, waits, and leaves. A fifteen-minute timer starts in her head.

Shego slowly lowers herself out of the duct, her claws sinking deep into the metal she was just laying on. They leave handholds marked by five vicious gouges as she shuffles her way across the vent - a super-powered version of the monkey bars. When she next looks down, she’s hovering directly over the glass case containing her newest prize. She pushes an anchor into the vent and melts it in place, threading the cable attached to her into the eyelet.

Dangling by one hand, she takes a deep breath, and waits.

Here in the silence, she can hear the hum of the security cameras as they move, the almost imperceptible whine of the laser grid, and the distant, echoing footsteps of the guard. Her heart throbs just behind her ears, but it’s slow and steady. Shego feels every shift of her body in the abyss, every pound of weight hanging on her fingers.

After being a sidekick for so long, it’s freeing to go back to her first love. 

The end of the world had been good to Shego. Their nauseating stint in saving humanity had awarded her a temporary reprieve to the watchdogs at her back. Drakken spent over a year on the right side of the law before he came crawling back, and that let Shego do a lot of reconnecting and rejuvenating that had been sorely needed after the world crumbled and got haphazardly pieced back together again. The limelight on her felt too familiar, too close to when she wore the uniform with others instead of alone – Drakken renouncing evil was just the clincher. Without him, any sense of responsibility she had to anyone other than herself just… vanished.

It was time to go back to what she knew, and what she loved. She grabbed her credit card the day after the reception and didn’t look back. She forgot how much she hated seeing the same people until she didn’t have to deal with them for a year. 

Some shopping in Paris, a gem theft in Lima, a night of dining in Tokyo. A museum robbery in Cairo and luxuriation in the hotsprings of Reykjavik. Three months in a remote Chinese temple, slowly flowing through t’ai chi ch‘üan forms with a jug of water on her head. More sex than she wants to think about, but still less than she’d like. 

 _And now_ , she thinks as she lets herself go, the harness at her belt slowly lowering her into the room, _two years since the world ended and I’m **still** on vacation. I must’ve been a saint in a past life. _

Eight months ago, Drakken finally realized that his brand of mad science wasn’t compatible with mainstream society. Shego wasn’t quite ready to go back to work and he was clean out of ideas, but they renewed their frozen contract anyway, confident that something would eventually turn up. She’s only seen him a few times since then, stolen a thing or two and broken some others, tangled with Kimmie once or twice. Poor thing looked run ragged, but was obviously getting more accustomed to her fancy battle-suit – Shego got one of her _own_ plasma balls straight to the face the last time they fought.

She was almost proud as she limped away from that one.

With a touch to the button at her throat, the cameras in the room stop with a static hiss. Shego increases her fall-speed, dropping with dizzying precision, coming to rest three feet above the case. She’s still a good ten feet in the air and can’t help the thrill of excitement that rushes from the base of her skull to her toes and back again.

She clenches her fist once before spreading her fingers out. In the dark, five hovering claws glow bright green as Shego channels her plasma energy into her fingertips with pinpoint accuracy. Eventually, she gathers it all to just her index finger, so hot it goes from green to white. She puts the tip of the claw against the glass and it hisses and sputters, going red in a halo and drooping away like poorly-stretched plastic.

It’s amazing what a few years of use can make. Sixteen-year-old Shego, fresh out of fighting crime and on the run, could never even dream of being so precise with her abilities. Back then was a lot of explosions and collateral damage… like now, except these days it’s on purpose.

 _What kind of dumbass doesn’t build a grid into the glass?_ She slowly carves a circle out of the side, watching the glass wilt and run down the pedestal. It solidifies before it hits the ground and disturbs the pressure-plates, but she’s still careful to wipe her glove off when she can. _Even Drakken remembers something so mundane._

She usually tests his security systems for him – she can always slip by, but having something in place that can catch _Shego_ costs way more than he wants to spend. It used to be worth it just to see the blue-faced frustration each time she appeared undetected, but that frustration gradually turned into admiration, and that’s where she stopped. She’s pretty sure he was starting to develop actual feelings for her towards the end, and that’s just—

Shego pauses her glass-melting to fight down a retch.

“But he isn’t here,” she reminds herself, carefully pulling out the neat circle she burned into the case. “It’s nothing but me, this room, and this pretty shiny that will soon—“

In her ankle-pouch, her phone warbles.

Shego takes a deep breath, holds it, and releases it once she’s still annoyed. Now that she takes a closer look at it, she’s ninety-five percent sure that snatching the necklace straight off the pedestal will trigger _some_ sort of alarm. She’s one hundred percent sure if that’s who she thinks it is, her hands will erupt when she’s holding her prize and turn it into liquid.

(Who wants a royal heirloom that’s just a puddle of gold and a burnt rock? Maybe the diamond would stay intact, but it’s the _principle_ of the matter!)

 _Seven minutes_ , says the timer in her head. She curses, growls, and finally rips her work-phone out of her pouch.

“A _little_ busy here, Doctor D.”

“Shego! We haven’t talked in weeks! Is that any way to greet your employer?”

Her jaw grinds – she wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I like it that way, Doc. Hence why you haven’t heard from me.”

“Well now, that’s just rude.”

The device at her throat dings – five minutes until cameras go back online. She lights her free hand ablaze to channel her frustration, casting the cavernous space with an eerie, pale green glow. Spirits dance in the masks liberated from other nations and traded until they lost their sense of ancestry. Across from her, the ruby-red eyes of a stone lion burn.

“You have ten seconds until I hang up.”

“If you’re going to be snippy, Shego, then I’ll just—“

She snaps her phone shut with a satisfying _click_. Despite the almost-overwhelming urge, she doesn’t crush it into pieces.

Shego closes her eyes, her prize so close and yet so far. Knowing Drakken, any second, he’ll—

Her phone goes off again – her free hand turns from a blaze into a wildfire, crawling up her elbow and licking at the hair dangling over her shoulder. She opens it with such a ferocity she’s surprised it doesn’t break.

“—you’re part of the evil family, and I’d think that—“

“Drakken, if you’re only calling to pester me, you’re going to _wish_ you stayed working for the good guys.”

His tirade sputters out with a wheeze. There’s a second of awkward silence, punctuated by the quiet sigh of the rope holding her in place, before he clears his throat. “Yes, well, I was letting you know I need you back at the lair. I have a new plan.”

“Which lair?”

She wedges her phone between ear and shoulder, sticks both of her hands into the glass case. When she lights them up, it exposes lasers that her goggles couldn’t see – the temperature eventually shorts them out and she extinguishes them just as the gold in the necklace starts to sweat.

“The cold one. In Sweden.”

“Norway,” she sighs, studying the pedestal. There’s a narrow strip of white that wasn’t on the original blueprints. More pressure-pads? Maybe. It looks unassuming, but the best traps always are. “I’ll be there in a few days.”

“But Shego, I need you _now_!”

“Shoulda thought of that before you signed our new contract, hm?” A new feature was _intermittent vacation_ – she could leave without warning, coming and going as he needs her. Drakken in small doses was better for her health and his well-being: less burn-marks overall.

“You’ve been rather lippy since I came out of retirement, you know.”

“I’m always lippy,” she grunts, casting around for something to make the switch.

“More so than usual.” Nothing. She’d have to climb back up, move her eyelet, and try again. “You’re not getting any younger, Shego. Maybe it’s hormonal changes.”

She blinks. “Did you just—I’m twenty-fucking-eight, you blue moron! I’m not going into _menopause!_ ”

Her voice bounces off the walls, carrying further into the compound. Shego winces as the footsteps she could hear in the distance slow to a hesitant stop – the device at her throat chimes. Two minutes. Between the heavy boots coming closer and Drakken blathering an apology, it’s a wonder she doesn’t just bail completely.

“I’ll be there in a few days,” she finally grits out, “you better hide to save _your_ sorry hide.”

This time, when she ends the call, she holds her thumb to a little silver button. The phone hums once before vibrating, signalling all data has been wiped. Shego gently picks up the necklace by one corner, inching it into the air, before slipping the now-inert phone onto its former resting place.

Through some miracle, nothing goes off. She slams the _retract_ button on her winch and goes flying back towards the ceiling, crawling her way through the vent just as the security guard runs into the room. She doesn’t stay to watch him stare at the phone, half-out onto the roof by the time he realizes something is wrong, but she still smirks when she hears it ring. A few moments later, the alarms activate, but she’s already a shadow slipping unseen into the night.

Ten minutes later and zooming away from the city, Shego rolls the massive rock between her fingers. Another ten million for the bank account… what should she spend it on? A jet? Another house? That nice dress she saw the other day as she was browsing?

Shego smirks. Maybe the pretty girl who was helping her with the dress, instead.

 

“Ron, for the last time, I’m not going to see Bloodsucking Sluts: Anaemia with you.”

“Aw, KP,” Ron whines over the phone, “why not? It’s got blood, it’s got guts, and it’s got babes. You like action movies!”

“Action movies, yes. Weird blood-fetish horror movies? So not. Besides, I have an exam tonight.”

“Academia: one, Ron: zero.” There’s a sigh from the other end, a muted _thump_ as he falls back into bed. “I just never see you these days. It majorly blows.”

Kim softens. “I know, Ron. But this is my last one. Once I’m done, we have the whole summer.”

“And summer school,” he says sourly.

“And summer school. But I’m only taking online classes, so it shouldn’t be that bad.”

“I think I liked it better when you took a year off. I’m sure GJ would hire you in a snap with or without a stupid piece of paper.”

It was true, of course. Ever since she left high school, Global Justice had increased the heat on the young teen, sending offers that were each better than the last. Tuition? They’d pay for it. Reconstruction on their house? Handled. A salary larger than many of their senior officers? Count on it. All she had to do was sign the rest of her life away on the dotted line when presented.

To everyone’s shock except her own, she refused.

After the end of the world, after graduation, there had been some cleaning up to do. Kim had already accepted her place at Middleton U, but even though her hometown had fared decently in the wake of the Lowardian invasion, the rest of the earth had not. It would take more than two months to clean up the mess left behind, and Kim, well… despite shafting Drakken and Shego with janitorial duty, still felt a sense of personal responsibility for the aliens that came to wreak havoc. Instead of attending in the fall, she (temporarily) gave up her place to be centered in relief efforts – stemming a flood in the Philippines, unearthing people buried alive in China, airlifting supplies to remote villages in Kenya. Wherever there was a crisis, Kim came running.

After a lot of haggling, she established an uneasy truce with Global Justice. She wasn’t exactly working with them, but their mutually beneficial relationship meant that the perks flowed both ways. They gave her the missions that Betty Director deemed too critical and too dangerous for her normal teams – Kim’s help opened their tightly-guarded coffers and unleashed a slew of upgrades for Team Possible. Wade nearly cried when he saw the new figures they were working with. 

It wasn’t anything like a binding contract, but came with the expectation that after she graduated, she’d pick up that pen and put her name down and become the best operative in Global Justice history.

( _Agent Possible_ just doesn’t have that good a ring to it, you know?)

“Maybe I want that stupid piece of paper. Having some normalcy isn’t always a bad thing.”

Ron laughs. “KP, you’re the _furthest_ thing from normal.”

She stuffs her calculator into her bag, along with a water bottle, sweater, and at least seven pencils. What if all six others break? “My extra-curriculars are a little more involved than most other people, no big.”

Kim doesn’t have to be there to see the dubious look on his face. “Four days ago, we stopped Dementor from fusing the tectonic plates together.”

“I still don’t understand what he was trying to accomplish with that. Wouldn’t that just kill everyone?”

“Dunno, I’m not a rock expert. Maybe earthquakes bother him more because he’s so close to the ground?”

Kim spits the water she’d been drinking, dribbling it down her chin. “Ron!” she says, muffling her laugh behind her palm.

“One for the Ronster,” his grin travels through the mouthpiece, “a-booyah!”

She swings the backpack over her shoulders, still giggling. It had been a little awkward when they broke up nearly six months ago, but after a month of moping, he returned to his innate Ron-ness with a vengeance. Kim still can’t pinpoint the reason they broke it off – it was like… she doesn’t want to say she lost interest. She didn’t. He’s still her very best friend in the world, and she couldn’t do what she does without him.

Something just didn’t feel right.

Across the room, her Kimmunicator beeps. “Sorry, Ron. Wade’s calling. Nacos after the exam?”

“You bet, KP! Good luck!”

Kim turns the screen on, hurrying out her bedroom door. “Talk fast, Wade. I’ve got an exam to crush.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to put off on the crushing for a little while, Kimberly.”

“Dr. Director!” she skids to a halt in the kitchen, “you caught me at a bad time.”

“It seems so,” the older woman smiles wryly. “I’m afraid your bad time is about to turn into a worse time.”

“A mission?” She glances outside, Sadie waiting patiently in the driveway. “I can’t miss this exam.”

“Already taken care of.”

A part of Kim bristles – for promising to stay out of her life, Global Justice is rather tangled up in her affairs. “Can’t you get Team Impossible to handle whatever’s going on?”

“It’s Drakken. I don’t want to risk it.”

She leans against the counter. “The last huge ‘plan’ we foiled was his ploy to dye all the world-leaders orange. Orange! Do you seriously think one of your most elite teams can’t handle something like that?”

Betty sighs, reclining in her seat. “Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but it’s been confirmed that Shego is with him this time. You know what happens when we send normal operatives against her.”

 _They go home in body casts_ , Kim thinks grimly, remembering the last time Dr. Director sent a strike team. One of them is still drinking through a straw a month later.

(But honestly, she should just be glad it’s not a body _bag_.)

Kim sighs. “You’re sure she’s there?”

“Completely.”

“Fine.” She drops her backpack in the kitchen, going upstairs to find her mission gear. “When’s my ride getting here?”

“Two minutes. They’ll brief you on-route.”

The screen cuts out, and Kim makes a face. No _thank you_? Not even a _goodbye,_ or _good luck_? She storms up the steps and yanks on her outfit – Dr. Director will probably already have contacted Ron. What could Drakken be up to now? She hasn’t seen Shego in a few months, the woman slipping through law enforcement’s collective fingers like smoke. The last time they traded blows there wasn’t even time to taunt, a vicious whirlwind of punches and kicks just as the building came down – the last she saw of her, Shego melted straight through a steel pillar to escape in a brilliant flash of green.

Kim wasn’t so lucky. By the time she wormed herself out of the rubble, Shego and Drakken were gone.

The roar of helicopter blades stops her from falling any deeper into the memory, but it doesn’t stop the forbidden thrill of anticipation from racing up her spine and back again. She needs this. The knot of irritation at her throat has one sure-fire way of unraveling – by beating it into submission.

 

“Having a bad day, Princess?”

The taunt is followed by a brutal front kick, sending Kim crashing through a pile of cardboard boxes. She hits the ground with a _whump_ , rolling before she can fully regain her bearings to avoid the follow-up blast of plasma. It’s only through years of fighting Shego that she isn’t there when the claws come down inches from her nose.

“You’re limping a little,” Shego grins as they circle each other again, “get up to some fun with the buffoon before you got called in?”

Kim’s scowl turns crimson. “You _know_ we aren’t dating anymore, Shego.”

“You’re an adult now. Maybe you should try it… loosen you up a little.” God, she’s even more insufferable than usual today.

And _fast._

She ducks under the first swing, realizes the second one is coming, but doesn’t quite jerk out of the way fast enough. Shego’s knuckles clip her ribs and add to the symphony of shrieking from her over-tired muscles, but she grits her teeth and responds with a roundhouse that would take off a normal man’s head.

Shego takes the blow, grunting, and Kim doesn’t recoil in time to avoid the hand that grabs her ankle. _For crying out—_

The next thing she knows, she’s sliding down the surface of yet another death-ray, stars rattling around in her head. She blinks to clear her vision but just gets an eyeful of black and green as Shego lifts her easily into the air with one arm.

Kim watches the play of muscles from underneath her catsuit, wondering not for the first time just how strong Shego really is. They’re both covered in sweat and Kim is already bruising, flushing a dark red and purple all over her body. There’s a score across her cheek from Shego’s glove that weeps red, and it stings terribly whenever sweat rolls down her temples; the older woman sports significantly fewer injuries, but there’s a hint of a dark green halo spreading along her jaw where Kim managed to land a desperate hook-kick.

“You’re really off your game, Kimmie,” Shego drawls, “I’m almost concerned.”

A distant bang from the far-side of the base. The two of them clearly make out Drakken’s enraged howling, bouncing off the cavernous ceiling before echoing back.

“Looks like Ron isn’t.”

Shego rolls her eyes. “The buffoon doesn’t have game. Just idiotic luck.”

Kim grits her teeth, wiggling a little in Shego’s hold. Maybe she is off her game? The second they started fighting, Shego pressed her, never letting up but never seeming to tire. She wants to blame the all-nighter she pulled to study for her exam (the one she’s missing, _right now_ , because Drakken couldn’t wait three damn hours to unleash his latest plot), but she’s fought better on less sleep.

“Sometimes, that’s all you need.”

She drives the toe of her shoe into Shego’s tender ribs, digging her fingers as hard as she can where the muscles of her forearm meet. Shego crumples, just a little bit, just enough so that Kim can give a desperate, mid-air twist and wrench herself free. She falls on her ass without feeling it and backpedals so quick she’s sure the floor underneath her is polished to perfection.

Still, as Shego turns to look at her, she’s never felt more like a mouse caught between the claws of a cat.

“What has Drakken been feeding you, Shego?” Kim grunts as she vaults into a back-handspring to avoid the latest barrage of plasma, years of tumbling and cheerleading guiding her haphazardly out of harm’s way. “Steroids?”

“Hah,” Shego barks, still far too close for how much jumping she just did, “if that idiot tried _anything_ like that, I’d burn him to a crisp.” Her hands flare, almost blindingly bright. “Two years of vacation was good to the glow.”

 _That’s **exactly** what I need, _ Kim thinks sourly, heading off another incoming attack. She can’t deny that fighting Shego is (maybe, definitely) a rush, more than anything else she’s had to do over the years. Maybe sometimes (not that she’d ever admit it) she looks forward to it. But Wade had taken her battlesuit in for upgrades, and for the first time since she can remember, she’s had to fight Shego without the enhancements that seem to be almost second-nature now.

It _sucks_.

Her kicks are bone-crushingly strong, her claws sharper than steel, and her plasma oppressive with its heat. Each reaction is just a millisecond too slow to counter. How the hell did she survive for so long without it?

_Maybe you’re only here because she let you be._

The thought stalls her to the point where she doesn’t see the hook coming. One second she’s standing and the next she’s on the ground, bright lights flashing behind her closed eyelids. When she next cracks them open, Shego is standing above her with a sickly-sweet grin.

“Oh, is it nap-time, Cupcake?” A foot comes down over her throat. Not so much suffocating as pinning, a measure of dominance.

She tries to respond, but her tongue has turned into a sandbag. Her nerves are already sorting themselves out, waking up after Shego temporarily put them to sleep, but nowhere near fast enough to avoid whatever else is coming to her. After so many years of push-and-pull, give and take, she isn’t even surprised that it’ll end in a lair somewhere in a cold, forgotten corner of the world.

Kim always thought Shego would be the one to end her life. Who else? There’s no-one else on this earth (or beyond it) that matches her in skill like the villainess. As Shego had said when they faced down death come from space and three sizes too large, only _Shego_ was allowed to hurt her. At the time, it was almost… flattering.

The thought that she wasn’t even a match at all leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

“Just do it,” she mumbles thickly, spitting blood from a split lip, “get the gloating over with before you kill me.”

Shego’s eyebrows shoot up. She crouches close to Kim’s vulnerable form, her plasma extinguishing with a hiss. The foot on her neck is replaced by a hand. “Kill you? Now why would I do that?”

Kim blinks. The points of Shego’s nails draw five equal droplets of blood – they’re so sharp she hardly feels the sting. “But… you…” Her hand comes up to Shego’s wrist, a bracelet rather than a shackle.

“You’re right, Kimmie. I’m the one that gets to kill you. But why would I bother when you aren’t putting up a fight?”

Kim sputters indignantly, the fingers wrapped around Shego’s wrist already seeking a weakness, but the older woman flexes her grip until it feels like a steel collar around her throat. Despite the smirk on her face, there isn’t anything malicious about it.

“Don’t try and argue, Princess. I put you down in record time today.”

She grinds her teeth, Shego’s grip moving with it. “Then why…”

“What’s the point if it isn’t fair? I wanna get you because I beat you, not because you can’t keep up without your battle-suit.”

Kim scowls. “ _You_ aren’t wearing a battle-suit.”

“I also have superpowers. Don’t get your panties in a twist just because you need a handicap.” Shego’s thumb digs into Kim’s lower lip, never quite breaking the plush skin. “You wouldn’t be the first person.”

Kim’s eyes flash, and Shego’s smirk turns into a grin. “Did I hit a sore spot? Don’t look at me like that, Cupcake, or I might get a little wet.”

 _I’m not just anyone_ , Kim fumes, curling her body to wedge her foot under Shego’s jaw. Her face burns, half from exertion and half from embarrassment, as she straightens her legs as hard as she can. Her bruised and battered ribs groan their displeasure but she still manages to pry Shego’s hand from around her throat, leaving five light lines that bead red as she sends the villainess flying.

Kim staggers to her feet. She cups her left side that might be broken, never keeping her eyes off the tangled mass of black and green on the other side of the floor. Shego flows to standing, effortless, and Kim’s muscles groan. As infuriating as she is, she’s also right.

The two opponents ready themselves to face off again. It’s quiet save for the shuffling of their footsteps and the odd _shlip_ of Kim’s blood hitting the floor.

“Shego…”

A loud explosion rocks the floor they’re standing on. The whole space goes dark, only to be lit up by flashing red lights.

“SHEGO!”

“That’s my cue,” Shego smirks, vaulting onto a pile of boxes. “Get well soon, Kimmie. I won’t go easy on you next time.”

Kim takes a step towards her, but thinks better of it. A tactical retreat might be in her best interest.

“Shego,” she says anyway, not all that surprised when the other woman waits, “a few years ago… I could fight you without the suit. What happened?”

Amidst the shaking and crashing, it’s hard to see Shego’s face. The light trembles above them, casting shadows under the villainess’s cheekbones – from the ground, she looks to be ten feet tall. “I got better, Pumpkin. Just like you.”

 

“Shego’s right, Kim,” Wade’s apologetic face says from the screen of the Kimmunicator, “her physiology alone puts her in another class.”

Thirty-thousand feet in the air, Kim watches the twinkling lights of Oslo gradually fade out into obscurity. It’s five in the morning here, and it’ll be three back in Middleton by the time she gets in after going through the required debriefing. There’s a Global Justice agent circling around her, taking her readings, making sure that there’s nothing grievously damaged or broken. Kim just wishes her ribs would stop hurting.

“But Kim put Shego flat on her butt a few times,” Ron protests, “even without the suit.”

“That was… what, five years ago now? Six?” A security footage reel begins to play – Kim’s seen this fight dozens of times, rewound and fast-forwarded to find a weakness, the two of them engaging in a dance Kim’s long since memorized. “You have to admit, they’ve both really tightened up their styles over the years.”

Then-Shego takes a kick to the back of the ankle, thrown offscreen by a much younger version of Kim Possible. It was sloppy, but back then, it worked.

“So even if we’re equal in skill—“

“You totally are, KP.”

“—thanks, Ron—Shego’s just, what? Naturally better?”

“Stronger, Kim. You can’t argue it.”

She winces when she shifts, her body letting her know just how _much_ stronger the villainess can be.

“The suit augments your body, brings it up to her level. Fills in the gaps.”

“A handicap,” Kim mutters darkly, but Wade shakes his head.

“Think of it more as an… equalizer. Shego’s got a pretty unfair advantage over you.”

“Do you know how she works?”

“No clue,” the boy genius sighs, “but I really wish I did. Just think of the technology I could make out of it!”

Kim leans back in her seat, at once unbelievably tired. “Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem, Kim. Take it easy, you definitely deserve it.” His face disappears, leaving Ron’s worried frown in the reflection. She stuffs it in her pocket and eases her leg out straight, digging her fingers into the knot of bruised flesh left behind by a particularly well-placed heel.

“Are you sure you’re okay, KP?” Ron asks, watching his best friend poorly hold back a grimace. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this beat up.”

She grunts, blinking back stars when the Global Justice agent presses clinical fingers against her ribs. “Hey,” Kim snaps, taking the entire plane by surprise, “easy!”

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Possible…”

Kim sighs. “No, I’m sorry. Just… careful, please. Shego really decided to kick my butt today.”

Rufus leaves his place in Ron’s lap, jumping up to his shoulder then across to Kim’s. He tucks fallen hair behind her ear and clicks his little tongue at the state of her skin, carefully inspecting the wound on her cheek.

“It’s fine, buddy,” she says, letting him jump onto her palm, “just a scratch.”

Rufus chitters as he runs along the length of Kim’s outstretched leg. “More! Ouch!”

“Okay, maybe more than a scratch.” Kim tries to get herself comfortable once the agent finishes, wrapping herself in a standard blue flight blanket. She settles into her battered bones like an old house sighs at night.

“Kim…” Ron starts in the voice that says she won’t like what he has to say, “have you thought about… I dunno… slowing down the hero business until you finish school?”

“Ron, we’ve been over this.”

“But as your best friend and sidekick, I feel we need to go over it again.” Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t back down from the glare sent through her cracked eyelids. Dating for a year did wonders to improve his backbone… if only when it came to Kim. “The world will still be there when you graduate.”

“Will it? We’re here right now because Dr. Director doesn’t trust any of her agents enough to handle a blue super-villain who has flowers growing out of his neck.”

“She doesn’t trust her agents to fight a really scary green lady that shoots fire out of her hands. A really scary green lady who’s nearly _killed_ you, the best hero in the business, way more than once.”

Kim shifts and feels the echo of Shego’s fists all over her body. She remembers holding those hands to the ground to keep them away from her, never thinking for a second that Shego would ignite them and burn off her fingers. It would have been so easy, too – just hold her close and press ‘incinerate’. No more botched heists, no more wasted time. Just a flash of light and the rest of her life free of interruptions.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s nearly killed me.” She touches her throat gingerly, her fingers fitting in the pinpricks of blood left behind.

“Uh, KP? Did your head get hit too hard?”

“My head’s fine, Ron.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have that thing where you think you’re saying one thing, but you’re really saying a completely different thing? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“I said I’m _fine,_ ” she stresses, wincing when her ribs shift.

Her tone says he isn’t going to get much out of her tonight. Ron sighs, wrapping himself in an identical blanket and settling down next to her. “Just think about it, KP,” he pleads, his fingers on her forearm, “it’s great you want to go to school, but you can’t do it while being a walking bruise for four years.”

“Anything’s possible for a Possible,” she mumbles, drooping to the side. Her head thumps lightly into his shoulder and she’s asleep before she even has time to readjust.

Ron stays upright and tangles his fingers in the waterfall of red hair that cascades down his arm. Kim looks a lot younger when she’s asleep these days, missing the weariness she carries with her like a physical weight. He doesn’t miss high-school, exactly – culinary school is even better than he could’ve _dreamed_ , especially because this means he’ll have a back-up if Global Justice doesn’t want him – but he thinks he misses how free they were in comparison. Sure, they were dismantling death-rays and stopping the world from turning into a giant snowball, but…

Were the villains nicer, or were they just less experienced? He thumbs a bruise on Kim’s cheek, the slightest streak of blood coming away on his glove. Shego’s claws were inches from Kim’s eye here… what happens if she doesn’t miss next time? Will he have to be the one to tell the Possibles that their daughter is dead?

 _Absolutely not,_ he clenches his fists in his lap, _I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll protect her._

They may not be dating anymore, but that just made their bond stronger. The fondness he feels for Kim is confusing at the best of times and downright dizzying at the worst, but no matter where she goes, he’ll be at her side.

“Who am I kidding?” Ron sighs, letting his hands relax, “I’m no match for someone like Shego.”

The Mystical Monkey Power has only turned on twice since the invasion – once to catch an exploding golf-ball aimed right at his face, and a second time while he was doing his culinary final. Having a knife that chops vegetables without you having to touch it is both helpful and earns you an eleven for preparation.

Rufus chitters and drops Ron’s phone in his lap. The contact he brought up blinks. Yori.

“Practice,” he squeaks, pressing the button to start a message, “monkey ninja.”

“Never call me that again, buddy,” Ron shudders, but picks up his phone regardless. If he has any chance of helping Kim, maybe this is the only way.

Deep down, he knows he’d never be the one to tell the Possibles, because if Kim was dead, he would be too. He just hopes it’ll never have to come to that.

 

Sunlight streams in through the curtains. Kim groans and shoves her face into the pillow to escape it, but a lick of pain dances across her cheek. She pauses, breathes, fists her hands in the sheets. This is her bed… she thinks.

She cracks open an eye and immediately winces. It’s her room all right, complete with a glass of water on the table and her bloody mission clothes on the chair across—

Kim bolts upright, unable to smother the groan in her throat as her ribs scream. The cover falls from her neck and exposes her dappled skin to the light; no longer red, she’s a patchwork mess of black and blue, the worst of her cuts cleaned out but obviously not completely taken care of. She shakes out the tangled mess of hair at the back of her hair and slowly shuffles to get her feet on the ground.

“Absolutely not, young lady. You stay right where you are.”

Her mother’s red hair pops up from the stairs – she’s too disoriented to even pull the covers back over her chest. “Mom? What…”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember coming in last night. You almost gave me a heart attack when Ronald carried you inside, all bloody like that.” Anne gives Kim a critical look, her eyes taking in her colours now that her bruises have had time to settle. “Back in the bed.”

“But Mom, it’s—“ she glances over to the clock, nearly choking, “noon? I have to get up! My make-up exam is—“

“On hold until further notice,” Anne says sternly, putting down a large plate of eggs, a bagel, and a mountain of fruit on her bedside table, “physician’s orders.”

“I’m fine, I promise. It’s no big.”

Her mother turns around, eyebrow raised. “Fine.”

“Uh huh.”

She presses one finger into Kim’s ribs – not even that hard, just enough to divot the skin. The pain takes her breath away. “Okay,” she wheezes, “maybe not fine.”

Her mother puts the familiar white first-aid kit on her lap as she perches on the edge of her bed. It’s a box Kim has seen many, many times over the years.

“I cleaned the worst of them last night, but I was coming off a sixteen hour shift so I decided I’d do it in the morning instead.”

“Lucky me,” Kim mutters, stuffing half a cantaloupe in her mouth in one go.

Anne gives her assorted injuries another searching look before deciding to focus on the scrapes and cuts first. Between the sting of antiseptic, Kim keeps packing food away, popping strawberries and grapes into her mouth as her mother works around her moving jaw.

“Wade warned me you were in bad shape,” Anne murmurs, properly cleaning out the gash on her cheek, “but I didn’t expect anything like this.”

Kim winces, the wafting fume of the antiseptic causing her eye to water. “I’m just lucky I’m not missing anything.”

“Shego?”

“How’d you know?” Kim asks, debating on how to get that entire egg into her mouth without dropping it on the bed.

“These look like claw marks,” Anne plops the plate into Kim’s lap so she doesn’t have to do laundry, too, “you’ve fought her enough times over the years that I recognize the signature.”

She scans down Kim’s arms, her brow furrowing. “Are those _burns_?”

Kim grins sheepishly. “Maybe?”

“Where was Ronald in all of this?”

“Trying to find the auto-destruct button. Drakken _always_ has one.”

Anne rubs some salve into her burns – they’re light, just grazes of Shego’s plasma, but they still sting like nothing else. She’s just amazed that the explosions didn’t take off an entire limb… or four.

_Maybe she was doing that on purpose._

Kim scowls. The insistent murmur at the back of her head wasn’t just a figment of her exhausted imagination, then. Great.

“Kim, should you think about taking back-up to fight Shego?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom,” Kim scoffs, “this was a one-time thing. I didn’t have the battle-suit, so she walked all over me.”

“Not helping your case, Kimmie-cub.”

“Once Wade gets it back to me, we’re equal again. It’s so not the drama.”

“I just think that with all Shego’s capable of, it might be smarter to bring some help. Like… what were they called, Team Impossible?”

Kim twists her fists in the bedding. “Team Impossible are okay in regular missions, but they’d just get in the way with Shego. They don’t know how to handle her like I do. She’s dangerous, Mom.”

“All the more reason to—“

“No, you don’t get it!” Kim swallows her rising tone, forcibly settling herself back into her pillows. “I’ve seen her melt through reinforced beams with nothing but her hands. She’s probably one of the best martial artists in the world. Add in the fact that she literally has super-strength, I don’t want anyone to face her but me. She’s too much for anyone… anyone…”

“… normal?” Anne offers softly, surprised when Kim doesn’t immediately deny it. She and James have always been very careful to foster a loving and mutually respectful environment all their children; they were each brilliant in their own right, but Kim was different. Special. She outshone even her parents.

Kim, with modesty and humility drilled into her from a very young age, never wanted to see that. But the world ending and putting itself back together again had a way of getting people to open their eyes.

“I’ve been fighting her for nearly half my life,” Kim says eventually, her brow furrowed deep, “and Shego’s always said she’d be the one to finally defeat me. I just… it goes both ways, you know? I have to be the one to do this. There’s no one else who can.”

A few years ago, maybe Kim would have thought about it. But Shego’s saved her life twice already, and bringing someone else into their own private dance seemed… disrespectful. Like she wasn’t worth the gift she was given – even if Shego insisted it wasn’t meant for Kim.

Anne pats Kim’s thigh. “She’s your nemesis, darling. If you think you know what’s best, I believe you.” She then puts a hand over Kim’s side, testing the sharpness of the wince it draws from her. “But the next time I see her, I’m going to give her a stern talking-to about bruising your ribs.”

Kim grins tiredly. “You do that, Mom.”

She helps her into a tank-top – _taping your ribs can give you pneumonia, Kimmie-cub, you’re just going to have to hurt for a while_ – and throws her a pair of sweatpants when they’re done, wounds dressed and burns salved. Wade had sent her an ointment that he had been working on, a novel new implementation of nanomachines; no miracle cure, but every little bit helps. Anne wonders absently what medicine will look like in fifty years. Will she still have a job?

To be fair, in fifty years, she’s fully expecting to be retired.

“No missions for two weeks,” Anne stresses, ignoring her pout, “preferably three. You need time to heal.”

“But Moooooom.”

“No whining, young lady,” her voice is firm in a way that tells Kim she isn’t winning this one. “Ronald carried you in half-dead last night, and you are _not_ endangering yourself again until you’re fully recuperated. You’re also on house arrest for the next three days.”

“ _What?_!”

“I know you, Bubble-Butt. You’ll conveniently make up an excuse to go hiking for half the day, and that’s not what your body needs right now.”

“What about my classes?”

Anne throws Kim a smile that could be a smirk in the right lighting. “You’re on break now, remember? Maybe you can study more for that make-up exam?”

Kim groans.

“Also, you had a phone-call.”

“From who?”

Anne hands her a scribbled number. “An inventor in Hong Kong. Apparently you saved his workshop from being overrun with cyber-controlled rodents last year?”

“Oh, Doctor Tsang! Anyone could have rerouted their circuits through his microwave, no big.”

“He says he has some new creations he wants to show you. Maybe give them to Wade?”

Kim bounces a little. “Spankin’! New gear is always the best. Can I go?”

“Not for at least a week,” Anne threatens, “even if it isn’t a mission, I want you resting at home first.”

Kim snatches the phone from the wall and kisses her mother on the cheek, already dialing it in. “Thanks, Mom! I’ll go tell him right now!”

Left standing alone in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in and down over her shoulders, Dr. Anne Possible sighs. What is she ever going to do with that girl?

 

 _No strenuous activity,_ Anne had threatened before she boarded the twelve-hour flight to Hong Kong, eleven days after Shego returned her home as mince-meat. _I mean it, Kim. You need rest._

Doctor Tsang was making this extremely difficult.

“And these are my spring-boots,” he thrusts a pair of red shoes that look like Doc Martens into her hands… if they were made of carbon-fiber, “do you like them?”

“I do, they’re stylin’.” She twists them around, her hands glossing over the perfect seams. “So they… spring?”

“The sole is attached to a supercoiled carbon thread. A button press releases, and the force generated is enough to fling the user up to twelve feet in the air. Shock-absorbent knee replacements are recommended.” He blinks. “Would you like to try them?”

Kim swallows back the instinctive _yes_ that chips the backs of her teeth. “No,” she says, chewing on each syllable like she doesn’t want them to leave her mouth, “I need to let my body rest.”

“Understandable. You rock nine percent more when you put pressure on your right foot than average.”

Kim grimaces and hands them back. “Still that bad, huh?”

He arranges them neatly, side by side, together despite the chaos that swallowed the entire laboratory. They sit on top of a complicated looking diagram of a prosthetic joint, so many notes scribbled into the margins it makes her eyes hurt to try and read them.

“I spend my life around machines,” he reminds her, “I notice when they malfunction. The human body is no different.”

“Can you fix them?”

“Repairing them is your mother’s work. In a way, it is hopelessly more complicated than anything I will ever accomplish.”

They skirt around the table in the center of his room and turn left towards the back. His walls are cluttered with formulae, diagrams, and art. Half-finished components hang amidst their blueprints, and Kim spies something that looks suspiciously like a mechanical rat.

_I guess Dr. Tsang wasn’t fazed by his previous rodent mishaps._

“Here it is,” he says, sounding almost proud. A massive chalkboard is filled with drawings, a backdrop to the explosion of jumbled components and strewn tools around his desk. On a section of grease-smudged cloth sit two rectangular cylinders, formed by overlapping panels. “You were the first person I contacted after I completed them.”

“I’m flattered, Doctor,” Kim draws nearer, noticing a blueprint of them attached to a sort of suit, “but what are they?”

“Years of experimentation in magnetic engineering, and the first step towards limitless application.” He picks one up delicately, balancing it on the tips of his fingers. “After you rescued me, I asked Mr. Load to share a copy of the blueprints for your battlesuit.”

“You did?” Kim asks incredulously. “And Wade gave them to you?”

“He was reluctant at first. Understandable. Your suit is a work of art, Ms. Possible. It took many conversations before he did, and only under the condition that I not attempt to replicate it. I agreed.”

“I told you to call me Kim.”

“And I told you my mother raised me to be more respectful than that.”

She sighs. “So what did you make instead?”

“An augmentation to the suit. Added at the back, seamlessly flat when not in use, but flared out at a fifty-two degree angle for maximum effect and stability in the resulting magnetic propulsion. That can be adjusted, of course, for your intended direction of travel.”

Kim takes a moment to digest and unpack his explanation. “You… built me a jetpack?”

“No, not a jetpack.” He begins pacing, the sound of his bare feet a soft tap-tap against the tile flooring. Kim notes that the paint underneath him has been worn away. “Too many variables. Earth’s magnetic core creates crooked fields that are unpredictable against the relatively fixed position of your counteracting force, and also was the issue of long suspension times when paired with the inability to install a battery—“

“Doc, the short version, please and thank you.”

He adjusts his glasses, swaying a little as he stops in place. “Think of it more as a jump-jet.”

“A jump-jet?!” Kim nearly lunges for it, kept in check by the way Dr. Tsang cradles it like a child. “On my suit?”

“That is its intended place, yes.”

“That is just so ferociously cool! Does it work? Of course it works, I mean—but how does—can it—“ Kim takes a deep breath, settling herself. “Give me the specs, but remember I’m not the Tweebs.”

“A liquid superconducting magnet is stored in your belt and cooled with liquid nitrogen. When activated, it moves into these vents, and creates a sudden magnetic field strong enough to counter Earth’s gravity. The result is a fairly stable hover.”

“Kinda like Magneto,” Kim says before she can stop herself. _God, that is so wrongsick. I’ve been spending too much time with Ron._

“The amount of superconductor forced into the vents alters how quickly you will accelerate. This can be altered, but only has two settings. A half-press will only boost you a little bit, but a full press will send you very far.”

“How far?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t have the suit to actively test as I was making them, so that remains inconclusive.”

“But it can’t fly?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” he agrees, “but in the right conditions, your jump could scale up to sixty feet. In that instance, I also recommend prosthetic joints.”

Kim blanches. “I’d like to keep my own kneecaps, if I can help it. What are the right conditions?”

“Plenty of sunlight, a mild wind, and colder temperatures. The field falters when the superconductor reaches critical temperature, and there is no known way to keep it cool for an extended period of time. That is why it is currently a jump-jet, and not a jet-pack.”

She gingerly approaches the other vent and picks it up, rolling the metal between her fingers. It’s remarkably lightweight, almost as thin as the air surrounding it. When she rubs her thumb along the underside, the delicate metal slat bends outwards.

“Oh shi—“ Kim bites her tongue, “did I just break it?”

“It is meant to be flexible. It will be worn on your body, after all.” He puts the invention down. “Did you bring your suit to Hong Kong, Ms. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’s in my room. Why?”

His lips curve into the first smile she’s seen since coming here. It makes his face look younger, more at home with his actual twenty-nine years than his brain always forging decades ahead. “Would you like to test them?”

Her mother’s words echo about traitorously in her head. “I have to rest…” Kim says, so unconvincingly it makes Dr. Tsang’s eyes twinkle.

“This is levitation, not true flight. It will be as taxing as a regular jump for the peanut butter stuck on a high shelf.”

Her reluctant façade splinters almost instantaneously. “Well, when you put it that way…”

An hour and twenty seven minutes later, Kim shrieks in delight as she soars across the small, neatly kept garden in Dr. Tsang’s backyard. The new vents at her back whine almost imperceptibly, the path that the fluid magnets take cool but not unpleasant against her skin. She grabs a tree branch before she begins to fall, hooking her legs around it and peering down at the doctor below.

“This is amazing!” she laughs, her belt clicking softly as it resets itself, “it’s effortless!”

“It works very well for its first true test,” Dr. Tsang agrees, scribbling something down in his notebook, “only minor adjustments are needed.”

Kim hauls herself on top of the branch and inches out as far as she dares. When the wood starts to groan, she presses her belt, and goes flying again.

“Jumping in a direction will take you along that path,” he calls out, “with minor discrepancies due to the state of the Earth’s natural magnetism, of course. The dial at your belt can alter the angle of the vents for more precise control.”

She cranks it one way and starts to climb much more rapidly, nearly vertical. “Can I just hover?”

“Pull the belt out, but be careful. It cannot sustain it for very long.”

Kim does just that, and comes to a stop roughly twenty feet in the air. She grins, looking out at the trees that back Dr. Tsang’s laboratory and the sprawling forest they create, her vantage point giving the hills and valleys the appearance of a waving green carpet.

True to his word, roughly ten seconds after she achieved levitation, her belt gives off a warning chirp. Kim feels herself start to fall slowly and unevenly, landing a little awkwardly on the ground. She shakes out the sting in her ankles with a bright grin.

“It’s the coolant system that always fails first,” he says apologetically, “I find it troubling to keep it online for a sustainable amount of time. Even in full sunlight, the solar converter struggles to keep the required power for more than a minute.”

“It’s solar powered?”

“Yes. That was my work-around for being unable to come up with a suitable battery. It can keep a superficial charge, but not enough for more than a quick boost or two.”

“Spankin’,” she murmurs, twisting her arms for a better look. The blue stripes of her suit are a slightly different hue now, the only outward indication that a new component had been installed. “Does it work indoors?”

“In short bursts. You won’t be able to hover, and it will recharge much more slowly.”

“I remember the Tweebs trying to do something like this, but the superconductor always had to be too cold for it to be practical.”

He smiles. “Mine is a novel invention. It functions at temperatures of two-hundred and thirteen Kelvin.”

“That’s…” she does the math in her head, “only negative seventy degrees!”

“Seventy-six, but yes. Or negative sixty Celsius.”

“How did you do it?”

“A man must have _some_ secrets, Ms. Possible.”

Her Kimmunicator chirps on her wrist. She goes to answer it but pauses, glancing nervously to her belt. “Will it wreck my other gadgets? They’re made of metal.”

“While in your belt, it is shielded and inert. You may wish to ask Mr. Load to replace any parts with inherent magnetism, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good enough for me,” she presses the button on her wrist. “Gfpo, Wade.”

“Hey, Kim. How’s it—whoa. You’re wearing your suit.”

“Yep! I’m with Dr. Tsang, he created a super nifty new gadget for me.”

The boy leans forward a little bit, like it’ll miraculously appear on-screen. “What is it?”

“A jump-jet,” Kim grins, “using magnets.”

Wade’s jaw drops slightly, forgetting he has a mouthful of soda that dribbles over his chin and onto his keyboard. He sputters in a desperate attempt to clean it to the backdrop of Kim’s giggling.

“I have a _lot_ of questions, but I’ll sit on them for a while. This is actually a business call.”

“A mission?”

“Not really. More of a notification. There was a triggered alarm at a research facility about a half-hour from where you are.”

“Police?”

“On their way. But Kim,” he grimaces, “I’m pretty sure it’s Shego.”

“What is she after?”

“I’m not sure, but there’s plenty of stuff that would interest Drakken there.”

Kim nods. “Send me the co-ordinates, Wade.”

He hesitates. “You still aren’t cleared for missions. Your mom said—“

“I know what she said, but it’s been eleven days, I’m practically normal again.” She turns away from Dr. Tsang’s incredulous gaze, leaning close to Wade’s image. “ _Please_ , Wade. I’m going crazy doing nothing. I already have my suit on, so it won’t be like last time.”

Wade chews on the straw of his drink before sighing. “Your mom is gonna kill me.”

“You’re the best, Wade! Hopefully I can get there before Shego leaves.”

From behind her, Dr. Tsang clears his throat. In his hand is a tiny remote with an intricate looking dial. “I may be able to help with that.”

He turns the dial on, and a drone swoops down from his roof to buzz around Kim’s head. Two prongs open, looking almost like… handholds.

“Spankin’,” Kim whispers for what must be the twentieth time today.

 

Shego doesn’t like Hong Kong. It reminds her too much of Go City. All the glass and tall buildings and the lights, always bright, always reflecting off too many surfaces until she can barely see her own silhouette. Not to mention glass is a pain in the ass to climb.

It would be so much easier to just storm through the front door, knock out anyone who stood in her way, and take what she needed before high-tailing it out of there. She’s been jittery all day, playing with fire on the tips of her fingers, her skin crawling like a current is caught underneath it. A little venting would help her calm down – but after her last mishap, she needs to prove (if only to herself) that she can still be as slippery as her wanted status in _thirteen_ countries represents.

Besides, going in through the front door is so… basic.

“Drakken and his fucking doom-rays,” Shego growls, burning a lopsided hole into the skylight. The alarm panel on the roof has one charred handprint on it, electricity still arcing between the shorted connections. She imagines the security folk are whipping themselves into a frenzy right about now. “What now? One that sucks up the clouds? Yeah, definitely something he’d pull.”

She snorts, securely attaching her belt just outside of the now-open skylight. “’ _Shego_ , don’t you see? Using this, the planet must bow to my commands or be bombarded with constant sunlight! I will fry all my enemies and wilt their crops! Yadda yadda, whine, _the world will be mine!_ ’”

Halfway through the hole, she stops to consider. “Actually, that sounds great. I could tan whenever I want… maybe I should suggest it to him.”

Why anyone would build a skylight in a storage room is beyond her - it’s not like the inventions need vitamin D. Still, it makes her job easier, as she lands lightly on one of many shelves that stack the area. Across from her, the camera that keeps watch has gone still, its little red light turned off.

Shego rolls her shoulders. _Maybe if I finish this quick, I can go see Midas before heading back._

She leaps from one shelf to another, careful not to overbalance. Outside, she can hear the distant panic as they struggle to restore power, the generators delayed by a particularly nasty surge of ionized particles that took out their transformer. Unfortunate how that can happen.

“Now… where are you?”

On a low workbench, directly across from the door, she spies a mass of rolled blueprints. Shego takes her time, landing delicately on the other end of the bench without disturbing the screws and bolts strewn across its surface. There must be _dozens_ of them, all looking exactly like each other.

_Just my luck._

He wanted the blueprints to a Metallurgic Transmogrifier… whatever that meant. She tuned out after the ranting started, but the name suggests it belongs more in the hands of mad science than a legitimate research lab in one of the major tech capitals of the world. They’d never be able to use it the way Drakken will, anyway. Following the rules is no way to get ahead.

Shego flips through at least ten before her phone buzzes. After last time, she made sure that Drakken would only ever _text_ her on a job to prevent any further mishaps.

( _It would be unfortunate if your hair stopped growing because it all got burnt off, wouldn’t it?_ )

“It’s going to be something stupid,” she says firmly, ignoring it. She flicks through another few blueprints before it buzzes again, more insistently.

“I’m not picking it up.”

Four more hums.

“For fuck’s sake,” she rips it out of her leg-pouch and jabs the button to bring up her messages.

_Shego_

_I know ur in HngKng for blueprnt_

_I need u 2 pick smthn else up_

_It is of utmost important_

_Importance*_

_SHEGO_

Texting with these claws is an exercise in futility; Shego grinds her teeth before hitting the call button. “I’m going to regret this,” she says before it even starts ringing, her free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Shego! I see you got my texts.”

“You write like a fifth grader on daddy’s cellphone.”

“Don’t be absurd, kids these days have their own devices. They come out of the womb with small thumbs.”

“What, as opposed to your small hands?”

“My hands are _average sized_!”

She huffs a sigh, half-heartedly flicking through the other blueprints sprawled around her. “What do you want me to get, Doctor D?”

“Oh, right,” he clears his throat, “pay close attention, Shego. These are imperative to my next plan’s success.”

Shego wedges the phone between her ear and shoulder and tunes it out, looking for her blueprint with both hands. The sound of the chaos outside is louder now, feet thumping left and right – you’d think that a lab this fancy would have more than one back-up power supply.

Drakken actually spent some time here on the right side of the law, doing work with clean energy (or something). All their lairs run on a mixture of solar and wind energy these days, sometimes hydro if they’re near a suitable water source. Being off the grid means they’re a lot more difficult to track, _and_ more money to pour into Shego’s bank account because it isn’t being wasted on absurd amounts of electricity.

 _What’s good for Mother Nature is good for Shego_ , she thinks idly, peeling back the lip of her second-last blueprint. Not what she’s looking for. Which means…

“—and that’s why I need you to go buy at least two dozen.”

She blinks, her fist firmly around the last schematic. “Wait, _buy?_ ”

“Yes, _buy_. Unless you want to slip into a Chinese bakery and steal at least two dozen egg tarts. I promise you, Shego, those little old Chinese women would give even you a run for your money.”

She stares at the space above the doorway for a moment, struggling to decide if she even wants to respond. “You… text me on a job… to buy you… pastries?”

“Not just any pastries,” he whines, “haven’t you been listening? Egg tarts! Famous egg tarts! They’re crucial to returning me to the state of mind I was in while I was working at the—“

“ _Egg tarts?_ ” Shego roars, her bared teeth traveling down the phoneline in a way that makes Drakken shiver in their lair. “Out of all the stupid, idiotic, absolutely _absurd_ things you could have said, this is worse than Operation fucking Gherkin, Drakken! Do you even think before you speak?!”

“I-I like to embrace a train-of-consciousness style of speech. It’s more honest.”

“Then tell your consciousness to go crawl up your ass!” Around her, the snap and hiss of static stands her hair on end. Little bolts of lightning flash next to her skin in an invisible cloud. “I am your sidekick, but that doesn’t mean I’m your _bitch_! Get someone else to pick up your precious egg tarts.”

“Shego,” Drakken implores nervously, “language, please.”

She nearly lets the blueprint go up in flames. Instead, she clutches her phone even tighter, the metal starting to soften under her fingers.

“I’m only going to say this once, Drakken, so listen up,” she growls. He’s miraculously silent on the other line. “You picked the _wrong_ day to piss me off. So once I get back, you and I are going to have a sit-down and talk very seriously about what you can and can’t ask me to do. Understand?”

“Yes, Shego, of course.” There’s a shuffling from his end, followed by a sigh. “So… no egg tarts?”

With a strangled snarl, Shego clenches her fist and crushes the phone by her ear. It rapidly melts in her clenched fist and oozes out between her fingers, dripping down her wrist as white-hot slag.

The power from the previously unknown second generator chooses that time to turn on. Molten metal drips from her hand and onto the floor, whose pressure-sensitive tiling has just been reactivated.

Shego watches the metal fall in slow-motion, still seething too hard to try and catch it.

_Great._

The room is immediately awash in red light as the sirens kick in, shaking her out of her stupor. She swears and snatches the blueprint, flipping onto the nearest shelf to make her way back to her rope. She just needs to get out of here, eat a good meal and take a really, _really_ long bath with that new waterproof vibrator she purchased a few days ago. It’s always been the fastest way to loosen the roiling cramp of anger and anxiety that comes with Shego’s natural state of being.

The anger, anyway. The anxiety is new.

“Hey!” Two gunshots explode from the door, whizzing by her ear. She spins on her heel, barely even focusing, channeling her frustration into the plasma ball that she lobs towards the hapless security guard. It explodes in a great roar and sends debris raining around him, knocked off his feet and flung into the wall.

“Whoops,” she grimaces, “didn’t mean to get you that hard.”

He groans but doesn’t move. At least he’s alive.

Shego slots the schematics between her teeth and climbs manually, hand over hand, to get back on the roof. Her muscles bulge in her catsuit as she hauls herself up, her claws making great gouges on the lip of the skylight as she yanks herself up and over the edge.

She takes a deep breath, her irritation lessening now that she’s back outside. Okay, to the jet, and then—

“Going somewhere, Shego?”

Nope, there it is again. Shego scowls and turns just in time to see Kim Possible drop from a remote drone and block her best exit, her battlesuit nearly neon blue in the full, beaming sunlight. Her entrances are getting dramatic enough to make Triple S proud.

“Not in the mood, Princess,” Shego growls, crushing the schematic in her left hand, “shouldn’t you still be licking your wounds after I beat you to a pulp?”

“Been there, done that. It gets boring after a while. My mom has a few strong words for you the next time you see her.”

Shego doesn’t even so much as scoff – Kim raises her eyebrows. “Wow, you really are mad today. Who peed in your cereal?”

“A certain blue moron who doesn’t seem to appreciate the skillset of his lieutenant.” She sucks a breath of air in through her nose, resisting the urge to grind her teeth again. Her dentist warned her some very expensive dental-work was in her future if she didn’t control her temper. “You aren’t going to let me go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

She chucks the blueprint across the roof so she doesn’t singe it, falling into stance. Her plasma explodes from her hands in one great gust, crawling up her forearms before she reins it in. “Let’s make this quick. I have a date with a four-hundred dollar bubble bath.”

She springs forward, lashing out with a quick jab. Kim weaves around it, responding with a front kick that gets slapped aside. “That’s just excessive.”

“Don’t be jealous because you can’t even afford soap on a student salary.” A flurry of punches, a sweeping kick, and an open palm strike. Kim grabs her and uses her own momentum, flinging her to the other side of the roof. Shego flows back to standing from a roll and pivots, anticipating Kim’s running punch and ducking underneath it.

“I have a full scholarship, thank you very much,” Kim responds, snapping a roundhouse to Shego’s thigh. It hits with a meaty _thud_ and ripples along her entire leg.

“Of course you do,” Shego rolls her eyes, feinting a hook to the head but hitting her side instead. Despite the suit’s analgesic properties, her trained eyes take in the way Kim flinches and backs off just a step. “Not healed yet, are we? Naughty girl.”

Kim flushes, settling back into her stance. “You’re one to talk.”

“Me? Oh no, Kimmie. I’m not naughty. I’m _bad._ ”

Shego claps her hands together – the resulting plasma shockwave has Kim scrambling for cover, throwing up a blue shield just before it hits. It flickers and crackles but holds, allowing her to fling away the kinetic force that would have sent her flying.

“That’s new,” Kim says, looking so genuinely impressed that it coaxes a smirk of out Shego.

“I’m just full of surprises.”

They circle each other again, Shego’s claws catching Kim’s arm to create a set of superficial lines. Despite the way that fighting Kim usually settles her, the flurry of fighting only makes her more tense. She gulps an annoyed breath of air and springs back a pace, lobbing a broken section of brick at the quick-moving redhead.

_What is wrong with me? **Is** it menopause?_

The distant wail of sirens start to creep closer. Shego scowls and clenches her fists, pulling her flaring energy into two concentrated points in the middle of her palms. “It’s been fun, Princess, but here’s where I leave you.” She stretches her hands out and lets them loose, the twin beams of light flying for the ground at Kim’s feet. Even if the blast doesn’t knock her out, it’ll make it impossible for her to be followed.

At least, that’s what she thinks before Kim hits her belt and goes sailing into the air.

“Huh,” Shego echoes, “that’s new.”

“Guess we both have some new tricks,” Kim says as she lands just in front of her, staggering Shego with a powerful cross. That familiar, bubbling frustration rears its head – Shego’s plasma licks her elbows and haloes outwards, the air around her humming with a powerful electric charge.

“Tell me about it another time,” Shego responds, catching Kim’s wrist in her hand and delivering a devastating blast of plasma to her chest. The suit absorbs the heat but only some of the force, and Kim goes skidding across the ground.

“I told you,” she follows the hero, concrete shattering where her fists land, “I’m not,” Kim is on unsteady feet, barely able to keep up with her strikes – Shego takes a lunging step forward and cocks her left arm back, her claws so hot they hiss, “in the mood!”

Kim raises her arms to block. Shego watches her own hand fly forward like she watched the molten metal earlier, that same anger un-censoring her strike. The heat makes Kim’s suit shimmer.

Shego’s claws gleam like five falling stars as they hook around Kim’s right hand. There’s a strange resistance as she finally makes contact, flesh meeting and then yielding, carrying her momentum forward.

Together, they watch as all four fingers and the top of Kim’s palm detach and go flying across the rooftop.

For an awful, aching moment, there’s silence. Her plasma extinguishes without even a whisper. Sound drains out of the bubble they’ve found themselves in; all Shego can hear is her own heartbeat thudding in her ears and Kim’s stuttered gasp. The charred, bubbling stump of her right hand smells like cooked pork.

Then Kim takes one staggering step back, her heel like a gunshot. She doesn’t take her eyes off what remains of her fist.

Shego’s legs tense, every inch of her screaming to run, to get away from the smell and the sight and the sound of her broken nemesis; she can see the veins in Kim’s face and the way her eyes haze, disbelieving, as she wobbles. She looks… fragile. It’s not something Shego would ever willingly associate with her.

 _Get out now,_ howls her head, but Kim’s tongue trips over her name. Her heart gives an unsettled lurch in her throat.

 “S-S-Sh-Sheg—“ Kim’s knees buckle underneath her and she crumples to the floor. Shego shakes the cement shackles from her ankles to run in the opposite direction she should, awkwardly holding Kim against her chest. “Oh _fuck_ ,” she whispers to herself, “oh _fuck fuck **fuck**_.”

“S-Shego,” Kim gasps again, a formless plea. For what? Shego doesn’t know. Still, she carefully lowers the girl to the side of the roof, her back propped against the lip. There’s no blood – Shego’s claws were so hot they cauterized the wound instantly, nearly charring the flesh they passed through. Her thumb looks huge and awkward in relation to how small her hand suddenly is.

“Fuck—shit—okay, Kimmie, okay,” she tucks fallen hair back behind the girl’s ear, like fire next to her paper-pale skin, nearly translucent, “okay, just… just breathe. Deep breath. Don’t look at it, look at me.”

She does, her eyes glossy, breath starting to hiccup a little. Shock, most likely. Shego doesn’t blame her. “Good girl,” Shego murmurs, raking her hair back anxiously. Her other hand supports the girl’s arm at the wrist, careful not to touch the burnt flesh. Even the best doctors in the world aren’t putting that back on, not after Shego sealed all the nerves and vessels shut.

She fights the overwhelming wave of guilt that splashes bile at the backs of her teeth. Kim is nearly vibrating under her desperately gentle touch, barely keeping a hold on her breathing despite Shego’s murmured commands. God, wasn’t this what she wanted? Killing involves maiming, and maiming involves, well…

Kim chokes on a sob, her free hand fisting in the material of Shego’s catsuit. She isn’t even trying to defend herself, not even when they’re so close they’re sharing air, clinging instead for comfort that her nemesis is ill-equipped to provide. Shego flexes her hands helplessly.

This _is_ what she wanted. Right?

“Shego,” Kim’s voice cracks, “p-please…”

“Fuck,” Shego hisses again, more to herself, before cupping Kim’s jaw in her free hand, “stay here, okay, Kim? I’m gonna fix this. I don’t know how, but I’ll fix it.”

She darts to the other side of the roof and picks up the discarded remains of Kim’s right hand. The four fingers are deathly pale, the gleam of bone peeking through in places, grit and dirt worked into the warped flesh. It looks like some sort of mutant spider – the cough that Shego muffles into her elbow is suspiciously wet like a gag.

When she brings it back, Kim leans over and loses the eggs she had for breakfast this morning. Shego grimaces. “Do you have water?”

The girl just stares at what Shego’s holding. “Water, Kim,” Shego snaps, not unkindly. Eventually, she gets a slow shake of her head.

“Fuck,” she mumbles for the countless time today, casting her gaze around. A pipe feeds down into the building with the symbol of a water droplet – when Shego cuts it with her claws, a jet of water bursts from the hole.

She rinses the appendage, careful not to lose her hold and send it flying off the side of the building.

_What am I doing? I should be halfway across the city by now! Instead, I’m comforting Princess like a dog that got hit by a car. God, it would have been easier to just kill her. This is the opposite of killing._

Shego scowls. _I realize that, thank you._

_Then you should also realize that what you’re doing isn’t—_

“I’ll listen to that little voice in my head when I’m not literally holding Kimmie’s hand,” she growls, turning on her heel, “right now I need a plan.”

A plan? There’s no plan for this. She’s cut things off before, but never worried about putting them back on. Her thumb runs instinctively along the silver-fine scar that wraps around her smallest finger before pausing.

Okay, maybe there’s a plan. Half a plan. An idea? It’s better than nothing. Will it work? She isn’t sure, she’s never done it on anyone other than herself before. But when Kim looks up at her as she returns, lips the palest pink and eyes far too wide, Shego shucks the rest of her doubt like a heavy blanket.

She crouches down, taking Kim’s wrist in her hand again. “Okay, Princess,” Shego says, softer than Kim’s ever heard, “we’re gonna try something.”

“A-are you—”

“Quiet,” she murmurs, lining up the stump and its former partner, “conserve your energy. This is probably going to hurt.”

The girl scrapes her soles across the ground. “Shego…”

“I need to concentrate for this.” Then, before she has chance to think about it, “Do you trust me?”

She nearly smacks herself, but Kim nods. Her disbelief stalls her hand on-route to her forehead.

 _Wait, really?_ She nearly says, but the sirens are louder now, she doesn’t have much time. So instead she puts both of her hands over Kim’s, pressing the wound together, realigning bone and sinew. She takes a deep breath and wonders why she’s shaking, too.

“Whatever you do,” her hands ignite in a brilliant flash of green light, “don’t move.”

Shego closes her eyes, all her power and intent focused in her fingers. In this tiny little reality, just the two of them, all that matters is the ebb and flow of her power and the rhythm of Kim’s breath. She sinks to her knees and dives further, deeper, searching for the girl’s heartbeat. The halo of light around her hands extends to her forearms, crawling past her elbows and up her biceps. The way it burns paints Kim’s skin the same shade as Shego’s.

Static rakes itself along her flesh. In her ears is the crackle and pop of electricity, Kim flinching as it bites her. Still, she stays stationary, enraptured despite her own pain as the light flows like liquid over Shego’s shoulders.

Shego was seventeen when she accidentally blasted off her own finger. She was still unused to how her powers behaved in a lot of ways, and a plasma ball detonated too close to her outstretched hand. In the resulting panic she managed to fuse it back on, but it was crooked, so she had to rip it off and try again.

 _But that was you,_ the voice in her head reminds her, _Kim is normal._

Shego grits her teeth and increases the power; wind stirs at her feet, the ground underneath hissing and steaming. Sweat rolls down her temples. Green fire sprouts on the tops of her feet and sets her shins ablaze.

The sirens are close now, screaming just a few blocks away. Shego presses her hands so tight it must be agonizing for Kim, but the other girl doesn’t even offer so much as a whimper. There’s a nuclear reactor going off inside her chest, electrons bombarding her heart working triple-time to keep up with demand, but even so it isn’t enough. Kim’s flesh won’t knit.

“I can’t do it,” Shego gasps, the light dimming. The wind stops, her light fading to her elbows. She doesn’t even try to fight down the wave of crushing disappointment; her catsuit sticks wetly to her back as she looks away.

Something touches her face. Kim’s free hand carefully wipes the sweat from Shego’s forehead, wicking it away before it drips into her eyes. Her fingertips vibrate like someone is rattling her bones from the inside. “Anything’s p-possible f-for a Possible,” she rasps, her shaky smile more of a grimace, “a-and you’re just as g-good as me, right?”

Shego stares at her a moment before chuckling, letting Kim clear the sweat that rolls under her jaw. “I’m even better,” she reminds her. “Alright, Pumpkin. One more try.”

This time, Shego draws Kim’s hand close to her chest. Her light grows slower this time, steadier, slipping back along her elbows and down over her shoulders to the strong spread of her back. She takes that anxious thing that has been roiling around in her chest and eats it and lets it flow through her, adding its strength to her own.

The green halo they’re in spreads outwards. Shego screws her eyes shut and listens to the wind scream around her, feels the firmness of Kim’s hand in her own. Her hair stings her own cheeks as it whips her, gulping fire into her belly with each gasp of breath. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. It’s— no. It has to be enough.

Shego reaches into her chest and begs the chains inside herself to loosen, to unlatch the door and unleash the seal on that seething flame that always smoulders behind her sternum. She’s never needed its power, never wanted it, too afraid of the overwhelming heat she felt only once as the comet crashed through her family’s backyard.

(It touched her mind as well as her body, crawled in and then back out so quickly she was convinced it was a ghost.)

But Kim’s other hand cups her own, a steadying anchor, and Shego takes a deep breath before unlocking the gate. 

There’s a sonic boom that shatters the glass of all the buildings around them, and a surge of green fire that spirals to the sky. Shego screams in a voice that isn’t quite her own as she forces it all into her hands, unable to feel her fingers, unable to _think_ as her slumbering core scorches her thoughts away. It feels like there’s a livewire running through her, each and every one of her cells combusting, a fire in their atoms that rips their electrons from their orbits.

Between her palms, Kim’s flesh writhes. She clings onto the edges of her sanity for as long as she can, until it stops twitching and grinding, before slamming the gate shut again. Her plasma extinguishes almost immediately, a tired hiss that sounds like a wheeze. Shego slumps to the side. Her head feels cavernous, echoing like someone had been pressing on it from the inside with a heavy hand.

She takes a moment to just… exist. Her lungs take such deep breaths that it _hurts_ , not that it matters much when every single particle in her body aches.

“Shego?”

Shego cracks open one weary eye. “Yeah, Cupcake?”

Kim is where she left her, staring at her hand. There’s a thick, white line running around her palm, but all her fingers curl cautiously into a fist. “How did—“ she stops herself, shaking her head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Shego rasps, rolling with difficulty to her knees, “I’m the one who tore it off in the first place.”

Kim says nothing as she gathers herself, and even less as she staggers to her feet. She only has about another thirty seconds to make her getaway, or else she’s going to jail for a few days. Not that she’d mind, really, but she doesn’t want to deal with the court system right now. Even having thoughts is exhausting.

“You aren’t going to stop me?”

Kim shakes her head slowly.

“Okay, well…” Shego stands awkwardly in front of her for a moment, resisting the urge to scratch the back of her neck, “I’ll see you, I guess.” It’s too much effort to come up with a snappy comeback.

Halfway across the roof, Kim’s voice stops her. It’s a lot like deja-vu, eleven days ago and much more conflicted, but she turns her head anyway. The hero has an expression on her face that Shego’s never seen before, and it makes her stomach do tight, uncomfortable flips.

“Shego, if… if you ever need…”

“Don’t go soft on me, Princess,” Shego interrupts, “I’ll go back to kicking your ass soon enough.”

It takes all her energy to jump to the next building, but once she does, she finds herself desperate to get as far away from that rooftop as her body will allow.


	2. resonance

"She did  _what?_ "

 _I just said not to freak out,_  Kim sighs. She rubs the bridge of her nose and tilts her Kimmunicator, focusing it away from the blocky GJ logo behind her.

"But it's fine, really. She fixed it. I'm almost done here."

With all the timezones she crossed, she isn't sure if it's morning or night. Dr. Tsang sent her home in an experimental rocket that devoured the sea it crossed in a blur of blue - the awe-struck technician that brought her inside said it broke at least four global sanctions.

"Kimberly Ann Possible," Anne says in a voice Kim hasn't heard since the Tweebs wired the house's sprinkler system to the actual weather, "you have a  _lot_  of explaining to do."

"Mom, I know I—"

"Show me your hand."

Kim sighs. The tattered remainder of her glove clings like strings of melted plastic as she peels it away from her palm.

"There, see? It's okay now."

Kim clenches her fist and then spreads her fingers out. Anne's eyes roam over her entire hand - Kim can anticipate the questions that follow from how often she's heard them.

"Any tingling or numbness?"

"No."

"Pain?"

"Nope."

"Are your fingers cold?"

"A little. They like to keep this place sub-arctic."

"Can you—" Anne stops herself, frowning. "Wade?"

There's a guilty silence on the line, but Anne raises her brow.

"Yes, Mrs. Dr. Possible?"

Kim scowls. "Wade!"

"Do you have a pincer on that watch? I want to test her capillary refill."

"Mom," Kim stresses, "it's fine. Look." She pinches her thumb and watches it quickly turn red again, but it's impossible to see from her wristwatch. A little probe extends from the top.

Kim sighs again and offers her finger, watching her mother's satisfied expression as the colour flows back, uncompromised.

"I told you," she puts her hand back in her lap, leaning back on the bench. "I'm okay. Just really tired."

"I would imagine so, going through what you did." The image shakes, Anne settling herself down on the couch. "Your father is going to hear of this the instant he gets home."

"Mom," Kim whines, "can't you give me a break? It's been a really long day."

"You'll be lucky if you're not grounded, young lady."

"Grounded?! I'm twenty, you can't ground me!"

"Do you want to test that theory, Kimberly?" Anne asks darkly. "I allowed you to go to Hong Kong on the condition you didn't do anything strenuous. Even putting the suit on in the first place was pushing it, but going after Shego? You knew very well that I would disapprove. And then I get a call that she partly amputated your hand?"

"She put it back on," Kim mumbles, and Anne sighs. She rubs her eyes from underneath her computer glasses before softening.

"Kimmie-cub, don't misunderstand me. I'm beyond relieved that there's no lasting damage. I just, knowing you're in danger like that…" Anne sighs and seems to deflate. "It's difficult."

"Mom," Kim sniffles, drawing her watch close to her face, "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to worry you. It's… Shego was so close, a-and I knew they weren't going to catch her in time. I didn't know she'd be so…"

"Shego?" Wade pipes up, his picture appearing in the lower corner.

"So  _angry_."

"Kim, there's a picture of her under  _angry_  in the dictionary."

Kim shakes her head, absently flexing her right hand. "Shego's snide, prickly, and self-centered, but she  _likes_  fighting. I've never seen her like that, not even during the Lowarrdian invasion."

Wade shrugs. "She said Drakken was responsible, right?"

"He must have screwed up big to get her like that."

"What I'm more interested in," Anne interrupts, "is how she healed you."

Kim brings it back up to her watch so the other two can see it. For the hundredth time, her eyes run along the scar that looks almost like a thick rubber-band, fusing her skin back together.

"It looks old," Wade says, squinting. The three claw-marks left behind two weeks ago are a baby-pink, but this is nearly silver. "Fascinating."

"Any idea how she did it?"

"Nope," he sighs, sounding just as dejected as he did last time she asked. "I thought Shego's power was purely plasmic, and plasma can't do  _that_."

"Except it did," Kim watches the skin around the scar pucker as she twists her wrist.

"Which means we've either been wrong all these years, or it's not just plasma."

"Could it have anything to do with her super-strength?"

"Quite possibly," Wade agrees, bringing up a picture of Team Go. "From the footage I watched, they're much more durable than your standard human. It's obvious the comet did  _something_  to their physiology… could even be their actual DNA."

He shrugs. "Still speculation at this point. I can't find anything about them, whatever research has been done is locked up tight."

"Global Justice doesn't have anything?"

"You say that like I can just waltz into their private servers any time I want."

"Can't you?"

He opens his mouth a few times before settling on, "I mean,  _yes_ , but it's definitely illegal."

"No one is doing anything illegal," Anne frowns. "We'll run a few tests when Kim gets back, but frankly, I don't like the thought of Wade poking around in private files. Patient-physician confidentiality is upheld for a reason."

"Yes, Mom," Kim grumbles, slouching a little in her seat. Her mom shoots her a look.

"Kimberly, I doubt we're the first people who want to know more than we should. So long as Shego's first aid doesn't cause any issues, you should respect their privacy."

Her sullen slouch turns bashful. "I didn't think of it that way."

"I know you didn't, Kimmie-cub," her mother sighs. "It's been a long night."

"You should go to bed, Mom. I'll be back soon."

Anne stills, looking like the lateness of the night suddenly pressed down on her. "I did have back-to-back surgery today..."

"Today was a lot for both of us."

"Fine, you convinced me. But don't think this conversation is over."

Kim slumps further and stifles a yawn. "I  _know_ , Mom."

"Good. Love you, see you soon."

"Love you too."

The screen goes dark for a second, and then Wade's face takes up the entire area. His computer room has gone through a few renovations over the years, new lights always blinking to highlight different parts of his face, but he's barely changed. Kim wonders if he's gotten taller.

"Do you still want me to look for those files?" Wade asks.

Kim hesitates before eventually shaking her head. "My mom's right," she says, thinking back to the naked struggle on Shego's face as she tried to fuse Kim's hand back together. "If there's no problem, we shouldn't go looking for one."

"It might help when you fight Shego."

"If I want to know so badly, maybe I'll just ask her myself."

Wade looks at her like there's a few screws melted loose but signs off anyway. Kim drops her Kimmunicator immediately, her head listing forward before her eyes even close. It doesn't take very long for her to drift; she's in the middle of a hazy half-dream about five meteorites about to wipe her off the face of the planet when someone grabs her shoulder.

Her eyes snap open, her right hand digging into the offending wrist and yanking hard. The other person stumbles and nearly lurches into her face, but catches themselves on the wall behind Kim so they're nose to nose. Around them, the hallway chatter grinds to a halt.

"Still a little on edge, Ms. Possible?"

"Dr. Director!" Kim blurts, immediately letting go. Her ears burn as hot as Shego's claws. "I'm so sorry! I totally thought you were… well, I wasn't thinking, but—"

"It's fine," Dr. Director dismisses, cracking her wrist. "In fact, I should be the one apologizing when it's likely you haven't slept."

"The rocket wasn't very good for resting."

"Then we'll make this quick. Come with me."

They take her from the elevators into the main hallway, the largest artery that feeds the underground hive. Every agent they pass immediately snaps to attention, one poor intern nearly dumping all their coffee on the floor. They keep walking straight when they could turn right, passing a closed set of doors stamped R&D.

"Every time I come here, it's like it gets bigger."

"Global Justice is not just an organization, Ms. Possible. It is a network. Much like how trees and fungi merge together to sense the whole forest at once."

"You took ecology?" Kim questions. They pass an open lunch room where agents argue over who gets to use the good microwave, and turn left.

"Molecular biology," Dr. Director stops, her wrist fanning over a non-descript panel in the corridor. "It was one of the third-year courses we had to take for completion."

"Huh." A rectangular section of the wall draws back a fraction before opening to a sleek, metallic elevator. "I always thought you'd be more law or political science."

"Law and anthropology, actually. I triple majored."

Kim sweats a little at the thought.

When they step out of the elevator, the lights are so low it takes Kim a second to adjust. Dr. Director strides into the dim space without pausing. Her presence makes it feel fuller somehow, despite the leagues of empty space between her desk and the door.

"Have a seat," she says, circling around to her imposing chair. Behind her, dozens of monitors display scenes from all over the world - millions of discrete moments captured every minute, each dissected and parceled by dozens of agents. A construction site at Chongqing; a riot in Caracas; a buzzing electrical field only labelled 'Northeast America'. Its meadows stretch lavender and gold as far as the lens can see.

Dr. Director sits, shuffling a few files. In the time it takes her to align her papers, three different sets of photographs have cycled through, hundreds of new perspectives replacing the old. Is this how a god feels, taking in every part of the world at once?

"Ms. Possible?"

Kim blinks, her gaze darting from the screen. With the glare behind her seat, it's almost impossible to see Dr. Director's facial expressions, but Kim spies her expectant stare as a warehouse in Berlin bursts into flames.

"Sorry," she mutters, taking a seat.

"I'll do my best to wrap this up in a timely manner," Dr. Director says, "but forgive me if I fixate on some spots. The initial report is… surprising."

"You're telling me."

She draws a tablet close. "You were in Hong Kong on unrelated business, but received a broadcast from Mr. Load that Shego was in the area."

"Correct."

"And you elected to pursue her?"

"Uh-huh."

Dr. Director raises a brow. "While injured?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I'm sure." She scrolls. "The two of you fought, and you sustained a serious injury."

"Oh yeah, it was bad. And that's not even the craziest part."

Dr. Director puts her tablet down and steeples her fingers. "I want  _you_  to tell me what happened, Ms. Possible."

Kim shrugs. "I still don't know how to explain it. She just… put it back on."

"Just like that? Immediately?"

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, but... God, even trying to remember the pain is enough to trigger a cold sweat. "No. It took a little while."

"Was it a device?"

"No. Just Shego."

Dr. Director's other brow joins the first. "Her powers did this?"

A familiar headache starts underneath her temples. "I saw it. It was like a… storm of fire. That wasn't fire. It was light, but also flame, but it looked kind of like liquid too? I don't know. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Fire is a plasma, albeit a weak one. It's not unusual that it could take on several different states depending on the level of ionization."

"Yeah, well, it was green, and hot, and there was  _way_ too much of it. I've never seen it on her whole body. It was… kinda cool, actually."

Dr. Director gives her a sharp look before jotting a few things down. She taps her pen on her table like she's thinking, but her single eye never leaves Kim's face. "What did it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"When she fused your hand. What was it like?"

Kim opens her mouth to answer, only to shut it again. She can still feel Shego's fingers wrapped around hers and the sheer  _heat_  that rolled off the other woman. Kim thought she'd get devoured by the light, but it spat her out new.

And in all her life, her adventures and missions and battles, she'd never felt anything like the second Shego's plasma began to knit her back together. The sheer intensity of it, whatever it was, washed away all the pain, fear, and doubt; Shego poured green light into her veins and Kim can still feel herself resonate. One of the most transcendent experiences of her life, and she shared it with…

 _God._ Kim plops her chin in her palm to hide her grimace. She watches a man run into a stop-sign over Dr. Director's shoulder.

"Indescribable," she says eventually, picking at the armrest of her chair with her other hand. She accidentally rips a decent hole in the upholstery and tries to pat it back into place. "I can't even put a name to the emotions it made me feel."

"It wasn't just a physical sensation?"

Kim shrugs, a bone-deep weariness settling in the longer she sits still. "It was a lot of things at once."

Dr. Director notices her drooping eyes. "We're almost done, Ms. Possible. Just one more question."

"Mm?"

"Why do you think Shego helped you?" She scrolls through the report. "It says here that Shego hesitated before offering aid, but I'm more curious as to why she stayed in the first place. All our profiles suggest that she would have either killed you or ran."

Kim can't recall the time between standing up and sitting down – one second she was up, and the next Shego had propped her against the lip. She was paralyzed, completely exposed for a final blow. She probably wouldn't have noticed it coming until it had already happened.

"I…" Dr. Director leans forward; Kim turns the unguarded horror she glimpsed on Shego's face around and around. It didn't fit with the Global Justice model, with the woman who had boasted she'd be the one to claim Kim's life one day.

She remembers the textured touch of Shego's glove on her cheek and wonders when it stopped being her model, too.

"I don't know," she says truthfully. It still feels like lying.

 

 

For how angry she was on the phone, Shego comes back into the lair very quietly. She puts the schematic (slightly crumped) down on Drakken's desk, but before he can reach for it, leans in and grasps his jacket in a loose fist. She levers him until they're eye to eye – the vine around Drakken's throat hisses.

"This is what's gonna happen," she announces softly. "Now that you have your schematic, I'm going into my room. Until I come out myself, you don't try and speak to me, or call me, or even use the same floor as my room. Understood?"

He opens his mouth to protest, but a flicker of green light runs across Shego's knuckles. When she pulls him forward as a warning, she leans heavily on her other hand to keep them both up.

"That's… fine," he says eventually, cataloguing the faint droop in her shoulders, "I'll have my hands full with these new prints, no need for another job yet."

She blinks, almost disbelieving. Her fingers unwind from his labcoat and leave a steam-pressed handprint.

"Okay, Doc," Shego nods. She doesn't even give him a second glance. "Later."

Drakken frowns. "Shego… are you alright?"

"What did I just say about the talking?"

Shego takes the long way because the short way involves stairs. Drakken hasn't hired many henchmen yet, not when they're just settling in anew, and nothing but her own dragging footsteps greet Shego as she steps off the elevator and into the basement.

Not only is the lowest floor both the warmest  _and_  most protected, but there are no fewer than three secret escape routes. What's so great about windows?

She starts disrobing before she's even made it to her room, peeling off her gloves and unlatching the hidden zipper at the center of her throat. By the time she makes it into her bedroom, the lone hench on duty gets a glimpse of her bare shoulder and the muscled spread of her back before her door shuts with a hiss.

It takes almost insurmountable effort to tug it down over her thighs – this old thing is getting tight. More zippers to get her boots off, plus a latch that feels extra stubborn to her unresponsive fingers. Shego immediately cranks the tub to scalding and climbs in without waiting for it to warm. The water spits where it touches her skin and a waft of steam balloons out around her.

True to her earlier promise, she empties at minimum a  _quarter_ of her obscenely expensive bubble-bath into the massive tub. It froths quickly and lightly, chamomile and lavender tinting the porcelain purple. Shego sighs and stretches out her legs out fully, letting her head fall back. Her tired spine loosens slowly, like she's afraid it'll snap if she releases the tension all at once.

Shego lets the fog that's been chasing her since the rooftop crawl into her head. She welcomes it, even, turning her overcrowded thoughts hazy and indistinct.

_You can't ignore what you did forever._

"I can try," she replies firmly, sinking further into the scalding water. Despite this cellular-level exhaustion, she feels more grounded than she has in weeks. That intense heat ripped the restlessness from her marrow by force.

But Shego can't let it go completely. It felt too familiar.

_(Fourteen and reckless, heedless, drunk off the power of being a hero. Standing in a storm and soaking up the charge, feeling it race through her, the electricity in the air making something inside of her sing. She didn't even notice the glow until the rain started evaporating as it fell around her, or how her veins were so full they almost split open to bleed static._

_"Shego! Behind you!"_

_Lightning flashed overhead as she thrust out her hand. All it took was a spark.)_

She's older now, not as thoughtless as she used to be. It's been years since she last clung onto her restraints with her fingertips, and longer since she let them go. Since she could. So what changed?

_What a great question, Shego._

"Mm, nope," she rebuffs, dunking a washcloth. "Talking to myself is something Mego does, not me."

_But you're doing it now. Does that mean you aren't you?_

"Don't be stupid. I'm me, and you're  _also_  me. Which means you have to listen when I tell you to shut up."

_The only person you ever listen to is yourself._

Shego runs the cloth over her tired shoulders, the oils in the bubble-bath leaving her smooth and soft. "Exactly. So, from me to me: be quiet."

She methodically works on each muscle she can reach, stretching out one arm and then the next. Her usual method of applying heat to the massage is already done for her. A bead of condensation trickles down her temple like sweat. Kim's hand isn't there to wipe it off her jaw, and it drops into the tub.

Shego props one foot on the lip of the bath and slowly draws the cloth up her calves. Her skin steams when exposed to open air, flushed a darker green than normal. Her knuckles rub against her knee and between them arc residual bolts of static.

"I'm lucky I don't electrocute myself," she mutters, languorously soaping one thigh. Would it even do anything? Her journey into an electrical tower was awful but not fatal - waking up intubated was the worst part of that entire ordeal.

She bites her lip as she runs the cloth over her belly. She  _did_  promise herself to take her new vibrator for a spin after she got back from her job, and honestly, she deserves it even more now. Not that sex has ever been about what she  _deserves_ , but rather what she  _desires_.

Shego leans over the side of the tub and grabs the little silk sachet. She hasn't even opened it yet, breezing out the door for Hong Kong as one of the henches dropped it off. The last one she had – a prior model – somehow made it into Drakken's laboratory in the whirlwind rush between lairs, and she sacrificed it as lost the second she saw his tiny little gloves wrapped all over it. The henches that played  _that_  prank aren't henches anymore.

After studying its extremely realistic skin texture, however, the Synthodrones became 7% more human.

Now she has the third model, and all the henches witness to the previous mishap remember scrubbing scorch-marks off the walls. It's just her, fifteen different strength settings, twenty-two pulse patterns and eight usable inches of silicone.

Except that when she pulls it out, it isn't the jade-green she ordered, but a beautiful femme-fatale red. A red, that if just a little more orange, could look almost like…

Shego shakes her head firmly. Not thinking about that.

She turns it on low and starts modestly, drawing it along her collar. The device is almost whisper-quiet even near her ear; her skin looks verdant in contrast.

Shego draws it between the valley of her breasts, tipping her head back. She closes her eyes and she's back in Colombia, sun setting over the hidden beaches, the busboy who she'd caught staring at her ass dutifully on his knees in the sand. Shego rolls the vibrator over one puckered nipple and sighs softly, the phantom touch of his fingers on her inner thigh causing the water to steam harder.

Her other hand rakes across her belly, relishing the jolt it sends between her legs. Shego's new toy travels down, giving out a soft whine as it hits the water and then silence. Her own breath bounces between her ears as she teases herself, drawing it up and coaxing it out, the sands of South America melting into a neon-lit hotel room in Tokyo. The girl in her bed had cotton-candy hair and a mouth that performed magic, a lacy set of lingerie Shego had bought on her last visit catching on the shattered teeth of the pulsing red-blue-purple from outside.

Shego saw the gleam of her eyes between her legs and then nothing until a strip of her naked back. Memory sinks nails into her hips and draws a tongue just where the vibrator travels – Shego lets her mouth open, losing herself in the recollection and letting it splinter, chasing wherever her mind leads.

She remembers fisting that hair to pull, how the light outside flashed GIRLS in bright red and when you mix them together it really looks a lot like—

"Gah!" she chucks the vibrator across the room where it lands in the sink, still humming. Shego buries her face in her hand like it'll make her stop thinking. "Fine! I'll address it! Is that what you want?"

The water laps at the edge of the tub.

"Oh,  _now_  you're quiet?" Shego scowls at the bubbles gathered by her knees. They wilt slightly as the water under them steams away.

"Maybe I need another vacation," she skims her palm over the water's surface and watches it seethe, "extended contact with idiots is obviously bad for my mental health."

But then what? Come back yet another year later and inevitably clash with Kimmie again with even fewer answers than she started with? Only then, she'd have to add why she ran to a growing list of questions she's sure the girl has.

Shego bares her teeth. "I'm not  _running_. Especially not from Miss Priss."

A second later, she slinks into the water until it's just under her nose.  _I'm talking to myself just like Drakken,_ she groans,  _there's no hope._

She lifts her left hand out of the bath. Outside of her gloves, her nails are short and neatly-kept. They look nothing like the titanium claws that had passed through Kim Possible's palm like butter. She runs a thin thread of plasma through her fingers, but anything stronger makes her head ache.

She'd never gotten them that hot in a fight before; she didn't think she  _could_. Using them to melt glass required a concentration that narrowed down to that one claw, a precision she would've passed off as impossible ten years ago. She found a different zen-state when fighting, a cohesion of her limbs and power rather than listening to one over the other.

At least, they used to be different.

Shego closes her hand, unsettled. Her plasma snuffs out between her fingers.

It's not a surprise that it happened against Kim, of all people. That teenager always knows how to bring out the strangest things in her.

"Not a teenager anymore," Shego reminds herself, "Princess is growing up." She remembers the first time they met, this tiny little freshman sassing Drakken despite being inches from a pool of hungry sharks. Shego possessed a healthy respect for things with more teeth than her, but not Kim. There was always a certain casual fearlessness that hung around her and only grew as she did.

Shego is no stranger to brutality; it lived close to her for much of her teenage years, and followed her when she became a villain. She's seen people just like Kim come crashing down from the belief that they're untouchable. But on that rooftop, the only one there to witness Kim lose her confidence and bravery as they were sheared from her, Shego felt… uncomfortable.

Shego scowls. Her fists flare weakly underwater, sending a pulse of green light onto the ceiling like an aurora. Leave it up to Kim Possible to make her feel awkward about something she's been trying years to accomplish.

The bubbles long since dissipated, Shego glares at her exposed knees. The water around her wobbles like alive, simmering furiously, hissing as she blows a breath of frustrated air into the bath. So what? Just because of that moment of weakness, she's supposed to reverse her goal and make nice? Go easy on her, hold Kim's hand until she becomes a Global Justice agent and throws Shego in a cell for the rest of her life? She's already made up for the guilt by fixing her—

Shego stops, disgusted. She doesn't  _do_ guilt. Not when it comes to pesky young heroes who've been thorns in her side for years, and especially not when those heroes get what's coming to them. Not even when they look at her like Kim did, leaning close for comfort without any of the betrayal that was supposed to be there.

"Fuck!" A cloud of super-heated steam billows past her – the last few inches of water around Shego's body seethes in a roiling boil, its vapour hanging like clouds. She can barely see her own hands through the haze.

The frustration fades as quickly as it came, and Shego slowly pulls herself out of the bath. She doesn't bother for a towel, the water on her skin evaporating nearly instantaneously. She's even more tired than when she climbed inside.

Her room is cooler and feels good on her overheated skin. Shego runs her hands through her hair, debating sleep over scoping out a job, when there's a soft  _clink_  from outside her room and the sound of scurrying feet.

"What did I say, Doc?" she growls, stalking to her door before flinging it open. "I thought I made myself clear…"

The hallway proves to be empty. Shego glances down to the floor, where a cup of coco-moo sits on a saucer with a few of what looks to be Mama Lipsky's famous buttermilk cookies. She softens, picking it up gingerly and placing it on a desk by the door. Come to think of it, she hasn't eaten in a while.

Halfway to closing the door, the camera at the end of the hallway whirrs. Shego looks down at herself (naked) and back to the camera (active) before curling her fingers into a gun and firing a tiny bolt of plasma. It melts through the metal like wax.

"Don't expect another free show," she grunts to whoever is manning the security, demolishing a cookie in one bite. She likes to think she can feel him sweat on the other side of the connection.

 

 

The baffled border guard shuffles through the pile of permits on his desk. In front of him, a slender woman waits patiently, her hands loosely clasped behind her perfectly postured back. The bag between them glints with forged Japanese steel.

"You have permits for all these?" he asks incredulously, reaching inside and pulling out two polished shuriken.

"Yes," Yori says politely, "they've all been inspected and registered by the United States government."

Also in the bag are four kunai, a tanto, two gis and two different lengths of bo staff. Nestled deep inside is a simple ninjatō that glows a soft blue against the dark fabric.

"The Lotus Forge, huh?" He spins one around between his fingers – his glove splits at the thumb where he touches the edge. Yori comes up with two feasible lies about its location by the time it stops twirling. "I've never heard of it."

"We prefer to keep our clientele selective. Our blacksmiths are masters; each piece can take them years to complete."

"Something simple like this?"

Yori gingerly takes the shuriken from him. "When something is very good, people will often question if there is anything special to it at all."

"Well, Ms..." he glances to her passport again, "Yamanouchi, everything seems to be in order. I'll let you get on your way."

"Thank you," Yori bows, shouldering her deadly duffle bag and taking the long bo staff in her hand. She's been awake for over twenty-four hours, and even her extended meditation on the plane only blunted her exhaustion. Add another four hours at special declarations (there was a man who  _insisted_  his new bonsai tree didn't need to be checked; security had to be called once it was revealed that the flight crushed half its branches) and she's more than ready for a cup of tea and a rest.

She weaves effortlessly through the crowd, her small carry-on rolling behind her. The people flow around her but part easily. Everything in America is so big and cavernous – it would take her at least eighteen seconds to sprint to the other end of the room, and five to get behind reasonable cover. Why do they feel the need to fill all the space they've conquered?

Her phone died halfway through her wait to declare her personal armory, but inside her bag the Lotus Blade sings softly, and she follows its growing hum to where she needs to go.

"Yori!" she hears before she sees him, a flash of blonde hair and two gangly arms crushing her against him. Yori laughs before she can help herself, lifted ever so briefly off her feet.

"Hello, Ron-san," she greets as he puts her back down, "and Rufus-san, of course."

Rufus squeaks from Ron's pocket, clasping his hands together in greeting.

"O-oh," his cheeks pink, "right." He steps back and bows much more formally, which she reciprocates in turn. "It's an honour to have you here, Yori."

"The honour is mine, Ron-san. I admit I was surprised when you called me."

"I'm even more surprised you came! I didn't even have to beg."

"You are the Ultimate Monkey Master, and the hero of Yamanouchi. All you will ever have to do is ask."

They find Ron's car in the parking-lot, a vibrant purple in the late-day Mountain West sun. It comes to life with a smooth purr and he carefully navigates it back towards home.

"This is not a… how did you call your vehicle? A scooter?"

Ron chuckles. "Yeah, I figured there isn't enough room on it for your bags."

"It is not the colour I envisioned you would pick."

"Oh, this is KP's car, I just borrowed it. She gave me a spare set of keys last year."

He merges onto the highway; Yori watches the scenery blur past from the passenger seat. "How is Kim-san?"

"She, uh, she's okay. She had a pretty bad run-in with her arch-foe a few days ago."

"Is she alright?"

"It's a long story," Ron sighs, "but I think so. You can never really tell with Kim."

"You are worried," Yori notes, watching Ron's brows knit together.

"Well… yeah. As we get older, it's like the stakes only get higher. She usually gets away with a few cuts and bruises, maybe a sprain if she's really unlucky, but Shego beat her black and blue. It was hard to watch."

Yori frowns. She's only heard of the other woman through snippets of newscasts and off-hand mentions from either Ron or Kim over the years. "It is difficult to believe that Kim-san could be so steeply outmatched."

"Well, believe it. Shego's been eating her spinach lately." He cocks his head. "Maybe that's why she's green."

Yori giggles. "You and your American-style jokes, Ron-san."

He smiles back, but his fingers tighten on the wheel. They zip through the budding late-afternoon traffic, ignoring the signs for Upperton and Go City. Brittina's new song plays softly on the radio, indistinct under the growl of the engine.

With his gaze focused on the road, his profile cuts a little sharper than she remembers. He's an inch taller, his hair maybe a little tidier - all subtle signs of time's passage that are invisible to the uninterested eye. But what Yori notices most is the lack of his ever-present smile.

"Is that why you called?" she asks after a little while, startling Ron out of whatever daydream he fell into. "Your concern for her?"

Ron stares down the long stretch of road before them, before shrugging. "KP is always the one saving me. Saving the world. It's been that way since pre-K, she's just like that. I'm only the sidekick."

Yori opens her mouth, but he shakes his head. "No, don't try and argue. It's true. But that's okay, because that's how it's supposed to be. We were best friends when this started, so when Kim got a mission, that meant I went too. It was never a question."

"Help Kim, mhm," Ruffus chirps, bounding back to Ron and settling by his ear, coaxing a smile from his owner.

"Things are harder now that we're older. The villains we fight are better, or maybe they don't pull as many punches. I need more than just my Ronness, you know? I'm always the lovable sidekick, but sometimes I need to be the lovable sidekick that helps her save the day."

"Or saves her?" Yori offers, and he checks his side-mirror, watching her shadow through the reflection.

"Maybe," he says, pulling into the driveway next to his house. Yori's never been to the Possible residence, but she knows exactly where she is. He turns the key but doesn't pull it out of the ignition for a moment.

"We, uh, broke up."

Yori can't help the way her selfish heart skips a beat.

"It was a mutual thing. Kind of." He scratches the back of his head. "I'm over it now, but I'm just letting you know."

"Oh, I'm… sorry?"

"Don't be," Ron dismisses with a grin. He finally takes his keys, passing that hand over his hair and leaning back against his door. "It just means that the Ronster is back on the market."

Yori doesn't giggle this time, holding his stare intently when their eyes meet. "That is good to know, Ron-san."

He gulps audibly when he remembers who he's talking to, but the expression vanishes from her face a moment later as she gets out of the car. Ron glances at Rufus, who cocks his head from his shoulder.

"Did you see that, Rufus?" Yori hears Ron whisper, his pet's reply cut off as she closes the door. In the Possible family yard, there are hidden scanners, cameras, and some sort of laser disguised as a gnarled tree branch. Ron scrambles out when she rings the doorbell, almost strangling himself on his seatbelt.

A taller woman with the same copper hair as Kim answers the door. "Yes? Oh, hello Ronald. Who's this?"

"I am Yori," she bows deeply, "it is my honour to meet you, Dr. Possible-san."

"Yori…" Dr. Possible rolls in her mouth, "aren't you the ninja girl Kim and Ron helped a few times?"

"Indeed. Ron-san and Kim-san have both been great allies to Yamanouchi."

She smiles. "Any ally of Kim's is a friend of the family. Come in, I'll go get her."

The house is far more modern than anything Yori has ever lived in, but it exudes a warm and cheery aura. Light streams in through the west-facing living room and spills burnished gold upon every surface it can touch. To her right, two teenage boys are elbow-deep in a computer as tall as they are.

"Jim! Tim!" Dr. Possible calls from up the stairs, "No dismantling super-computers at the dinner table!"

They grimace at each other and scoop the tower into their arms in one practiced movement, darting past Ron and Yori with a simultaneous greeting as they retreat towards their bedroom. She catches their faces in the many family photos that carry up the stairs.

The newest one looks to be about a year old; Kim, covered in mud, beaming at the camera as she holds a similarly filthy dog. He was mid-lick in her arms, her matted ponytail and bright smile the only snatch of colour on the two of them.

"We were in Zhejiang to help with the landslides," Ron says, "eight months after the Lowarrdians invaded."

"Global Justice?"

Ron smiles. "No, just people calling us for help. We'd slept maybe four hours in three days when she pulled that little guy out of the rubble."

"He followed us everywhere after that," Kim chimes in from the top of the stairs, "right up until we got onto the plane back. I really wanted to adopt him, but my dad has allergies."

"Kim-san," Yori bows, "I am happy that we meet again."

Kim bows back. Yori comes up in time to watch Kim's hand splint her side at the bottom. "No big, it's good to see you. I just didn't know you were coming…?"

Her cutting side-eye has Ron laughing nervously from the bottom of the staircase. "You know, KP, she was just in the neighbourhood."

"Uh huh. This neighbourhood in particular?"

"Hey, Middleton's the bomb-diggity."

Yori smiles. "Ron-san contacted me because he wishes to learn more about Tai Shing Pek Kwar. It was my honour to fulfill his request."

Kim's eyebrows go up – Yori notes the shadow of a bruise along the bridge of her nose. "Master Sensei just let you come to America because Ron asked?"

"The training of the Ultimate Monkey Master is one of Yamanouchi's highest responsibilities. We will not let such a trivial thing as distance derail us from our duty, Kim-san."

Kim and Ron share a long, weighted look between them before Kim's shoulders relax ever so slightly.

"That's… understandable," she agrees slowly. Ron grins, the tension trickling away like plugs were pulled from his heels, and mutters a soft  _booyah._ "Well, welcome to Middleton. You've got a home here for however long you stay."

Kim clasps Yori's hands warmly. Yori feels guilty at how she startles, having almost expected a hostile encounter from the start. "Thank you."

"Oh, Kim," Ron interjects, "how's your hand?"

Yori glances down – she missed the thick band of scar-tissue when Kim had grabbed her. She runs her thumb along it before she can help herself, head tilting. It's warm.

"The same as always," Kim sighs, taking it back. "I swear my mom asks me at least six times a day."

"What happened, Kim-san?"

"It's a long story. Let's go sit, you must be tired."

 

 

"… all the scans checked out fine, so now I'm here." Kim sips the tea that Yori brewed for them, a staple in her training and the only item she insisted on bringing. "It could've gone really badly, but it's so not the drama."

"You must be more fearless than I remember to consider this… what did you say once? No big?" Yori cradles her second mug, entirely relaxed on the couch. Even so, Kim's caught her staring a few times, cataloguing the changes since they last met. A year ago it might have meant something else.

Kim shrugs. "I deal with too much all the time to worry about things that didn't happen."

"She's just worried about literally everything else," Ron nods sagely, sipping his root beer alongside his tea.

"That's not true! I can be chill."

"You always have, at minimum, three different things happening. You have to be at least a liquid all the time."

Curled up on the recliner, Kim scowls. "You make it sound like I'm a hot-head."

"Uh, KP? Did you look in a mirror recently? You even have red hair!"

"Ron!"

He shrinks a little at her glare. "What? It's not a  _bad_ thing. It's good to have hot and cold on the same team, you know? Yin and yang."

"I wouldn't go so far, Ron-san," Yori interjects politely, "you are complimentary, rather than opposites."

"Aw, Yori, back me up here! I'm cool like a glacier."

"All the glaciers are melting because of global warming," Kim says dryly, "you might want to choose a different simile."

"You're just hatin', Kim. Once I master the Mystical Monkey Power, I'll be as cool as a… cucumber." Ron frowns. "I never understood that, they come from India. It's really hot there."

"So Yori's teaching you how to use your monkey mojo?"

"It is something that comes with time, discipline, and dedication," Yori says firmly. "Just because Ron-san was blessed with its power does not mean he does not have to work to become proficient."

"Yikes," Kim grins, "your worst nightmare."

"I think it is most honourable." Yori pours her third serving, the fragrant waft of jasmine swirling around the four of them. "Bettering yourself for the benefit of your friends is the purest cause."

"For your… friends?"

Ron coughs into his fist. "I want to be able to back you up, KP."

"But… Ron, no. You don't have to. We've always saved the day with what we have."

"Always isn't the same thing as forever," Ron reminds her, slurping the last bit of his root beer. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to have some Magic Monkey on the side, just in case the Lowarrdians come back? Or maybe if Shego wants another match? I hate to break it to you, Kim, but the third round is where the finishers happen. Haven't you ever played Mortal Kombat?"

"That's a video game."

"And? We've saved the world from aliens, mad scientists, and evil worldwide corporations. We might as well be in a video game." He stops, glancing down the hallway suspiciously. "Or maybe the Matrix."

"So not." Kim frowns. "This is a lot of work, Ron. I can't ask you to do this for me."

"Good thing you aren't asking. I'm doing this for myself. Sort of."

"But—"

"KP, I have this crazy ancient power, but what good is it if I keep losing my pants all the time? I want to see what's really inside of me."

Rufus hums from his perch on the couch. "Naco cheese! Mm, beans!"

"Right you are, old pal. But there's more to a man than just Mexican food."

Kim rubs her brow with her unoccupied hand. It's like she's fallen into another one of Drakken's alternate dimensions with no way to escape. "Are you… is this because you're unhappy with our missions? I know I tend to take the spotlight, and I'm sorry—"

"Psh, no way. You're made to be the hero, KP. I just want to be the best sidekick possible." He grins. "Pun completely intended."

Kim is too lost in thought to smile back. Ron as a proficient fighter? Sure, it comes out in bursts, and these days she doesn't have to worry quite so much when he's surrounded by henchmen, but having actual skills instead of dumb skills means he'll get more attention from enemies. More attention means more risk, and more risk means a higher possibility of—

Her fingers tighten; the mug in her right hand shatters, sending shards of pottery and scalding tea over her lap. Kim yelps and flings the cup away, arcing the rest of her beverage across the floor.

"Shi—ucks," Kim sighs, throwing a glance to where her mom disappeared, "there must have been a crack in it."

"Are you alright, Kim-san?"

"Fine, just a little annoyed," she pulls her shirt away from herself, "and damp. Excuse me, I'm going to go change."

She leaves them on the couch and bounds to her room. She shuts the door with her foot and strips off her sodden shirt, shuddering at the cool evening breeze that blows through the open window.

"A free show, Kimmie? I had no idea you were like that."

Kim whips around, falling into stance before remembering her state of undress. "Shego!" she squeaks, awkwardly holding her shirt to her chest with one hand. There's five steps to the door, but her voice doesn't carry unless it's open, and the cameras throughout the house aren't manned all the time. If Shego attacks, she has maybe half a second to come up with a plan… but god, her ribs still hurt.

Except Shego isn't attacking, just lounging on the open windowsill.

"Yes, Pumpkin. Your observational skills are stellar, as usual."

Kim inches around to her dresser, never once taking her eyes off her nemesis. "What do you want?" she rummages for a clean shirt, fumbling to shield herself from the other's gaze.

"Am I really that intimidating? You flatter me."

"Shego," Kim warns. Her cheeks flush dangerously hot.

Shego sighs. "You're no fun."

"Excuse me if having my arch-foe in my bedroom while I'm undressing isn't my idea of a good time."

"You're excused."

Kim huffs, discarding her sodden shirt in her hamper and moving so the bed is between her and Shego. She knows, realistically, that Shego could clear it with no effort at all, but her jaw loosens a tiny bit anyway. "What do you want?" she asks again, more exasperation and less fear this time.

"Can't I just drop in?"

"Drop in?" Kim's mouth hangs open. "Not only is this whole sitch  _ferociously_  weird, have you conveniently forgotten what happened in Hong Kong? Because I promise I haven't! You can't just  _drop in_  after something like that!"

Shego shifts on the windowsill, dragging one claw gingerly over the wood. She leaves a thin black char-mark in its wake. "No, Kim, I haven't forgotten."

"Exactly, so I don't think that—" Kim cuts herself off, "you used my name."

The thief looks at her sharply.

"You said Kim. Not Kimmie, or Princess, or…" Kim studies Shego, closer this time, discovering the tension in her shoulders and the tightness around her mouth. The hand that props her up drums her fingers quickly and rhythmically against the ledge, little wisps of fire dancing between her knuckles.

(The last time she heard Shego say it, that hand was on her cheek.)

"This is stupid," Shego hisses, gathering her legs fluidly under herself, "just forget it. I knew it was a bad idea."

Kim watches her pivot neatly, halfway out the window. Her hand tingles.

"What happened?"

Shego pauses, silhouetted by the scarcely visible sun. Kim knows there's only one chance to get this right, or else Shego will vanish into the growing night and they'll never speak of it again.

"Why do you think something happened?"

"We've been enemies for years," Kim chides, "give me more credit than that."

Shego deflates a little, sitting on the heel wedged underneath her. Muscles flicker under her jaw like she's trying to soften the words about to come out of her mouth. "I need your help."

Kim allows herself a second to be stunned, a moment where the night settles heavy around them with all the questions she could drown in. Shego's nails bite hard into the frame, her entire body hanging out the window; Kim takes a breath and remembers herself.

"Okay."

Shego freezes. Her head turns ever so slightly, whatever sliver of jaw and temple Kim can see void of expression.

"I'll help," she clarifies, "with… whatever it is. Unless it's a crime, in which case we'll probably set my room on fire in two minutes."

Shego turns slowly on the ball of her foot. Despite feeling very much like she's being pried apart, Kim holds her gaze.

"What?" Shego says eventually.

"…what?" Kim replies, brows drawing in.

"You don't even know why yet."

"And?"

For a second, Shego almost looks… lost. Her face shifts through a whirlwind of expression, Kim unable to follow them all – Shego's brow twists in a way she's never seen before. She drinks in what she can before laughter floats up from the living room, and Shego falls back into her sour incredulity.

"Whatever, Princess."

Ron's distinctive, howling laugh breaks Kim out of her stupor. "I'll be back. Don't move. Well actually, please move, someone's going to see you hanging out of the window and call the police."

She darts into the hallway before she can hear Shego's rebuttal, struggling into her shirt and skidding into the stairwell. Her day went from weird to awkweird to… well… she doesn't have a word for this, yet. Kim falls into mission mode as she grapples to get rid of the first obstacle; Ron and Yori downstairs.

"Oh, KP!" Ron sees her first as she thumps down to the main floor. "I put five bucks that you laid down and fell asleep."

"Well," Kim scratches at her neck, passing off her guilty flush as sheepishness, "maybe."

"Are you okay, Kimmie-cub?" Anne frowns, having taken her daughter's place on the recliner. "You aren't feeling sick, are you?"

"No, Mom," Kim sighs, "I'm just really tired. I didn't sleep well last night because I, uh… it was too hot."

"My fan quit in my room," Ron whines, "it felt like that time I put too much Diablo sauce on that Naco."

Rufus squeaks, covering his mouth.

"It was a scorcher," Anne agrees, "are your windows not insulated properly? I can get your father to take a look."

"No!" Kim blurts, a little more forcefully than she intended. "No, i-it's okay. It's going to be cooler tonight." She sways on the step, momentarily occupied with how easy it was to lie to them, and Yori sips at her fourth and final mug of tea.

"Kim-san, why is your shirt on backwards? Is this a new Western trend?"

"I—oh!" She rakes a hand through her hair. "I must be more tired than I thought."

Yori puts down her empty mug and reaches for her bag, blinking a little slower than she should. "I can sympathize. I think it is time for me to recover from my flight."

"Oh," Ron yelps, "I'm so sorry, I totally forgot you've seen like, two sunsets today! Yeah, let's go home. Both of you need a major snooze."

They gather Yori's things from Kim's car in a whirlwind of goodbyes, and soon enough Kim gives Ron a parting hug. "I'm not mad," she whispers, and he squeezes her tight for a moment before letting her go. Yori bows from the opposite porch, her eyes twinkling a little, and Kim can't help but smile back.

"Night, Bubble-Butt," Anne says warmly, giving Kim a kiss on the forehead before ushering her upstairs.

"Night, Mom," she calls back, slipping back into her room with a fortifying breath. Despite her own reassurances, she instinctively uses the door as a shield.

Shego looks up from where she's lounging on Kim's bed, an easy smirk across her lips like their last conversation never happened. "Hi, Bubble-Butt."

"Shego!" Kim hisses, the flush that had only just dissipated returning in full bloom. "You listened!"

"Um, hello? I'm me, and you're you? I had to make sure you weren't calling the police."

"We both know that the police can't do anything to stop you escaping."

"Aw, are you saying you'd let me go  _again_? Don't tell me you're going soft."

Kim stomps her foot. "Enough with the… the—"

"Sarcastic, yet salacious banter?"

"The flirting!" she grunts, hands on her hips. "We both know you're just delaying the inevitable."

Shego sighs wistfully. "That was the point."

Kim straddles her desk chair, facing her. The two women look at each other for a long, silent moment; in this light, the shadows under her eyes surface in a strange, grey hue.

"I fucked up."

Shego picks underneath her claws. They're spotless – scoured clean.

"Things have been… strange, lately. I'm more of a bitch than usual, if you can believe it. Feels like my fuse is permanently on low," she glances to Kim's hand, "so I went to do a job of my own to calm me down. Too much time with Doctor D and I stay permanently in the angry place.

"I don't know. All the cameras were out, I disabled all the alarms, no-one saw me come in. But I got impatient."

Shego sinks her claw into the thumb-bed of her other glove. "The security guy heard me. We traded a couple hits, I turned on the plasma to see that terrified look they all get. Then…"

Light dances on her talon-tips, and Shego snuffs it out with a scowl. Kim hesitates before inching a little closer. "What did you do, Shego?"

"I melted his fucking face, okay?" She rolls off the bed; the fabric of her suit creaks as she curls her fists. "I tried to turn it off when I hit him, but I just… I couldn't. It liquefied him like a fucking wax model. If he survives, he's gonna look like the Barbie that got fed to Fido for the rest of his life."

Shego mistakes the nausea on Kim's face for disgust. "Go on,  _Cupcake_. Call me a murderer."

"No, I—"

"It'll be the least surprising thing today."

"Shego," Kim says forcefully, "no. I don't think that. But I  _do_  think you're majorly stressing, and that there's something weird going on, and I'm sorry it's happening to you."

"Oh. Well… good," Shego agrees lamely, "because I'm not."

Kim frowns. "Can I ask you something?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Please don't get upset, but," Kim winces at the stormy look on Shego's brow, "why, um, are you freaking so much about this?"

The thief blinks. "Kimmie, do you realize how bad that sounds?"

"N-no I just mean, it's you, right? Shego, the person who decided that killing Kim Possible was going to be one of her ultimate goals in life."

"Ultimate—maybe top three," Shego dismisses.

" _So_ not the point."

"Isn't it, though?" Shego crosses her arms; Kim unthinkingly admires the way her catsuit stretches over her broadened shoulders. "Killing you would be my greatest story, my most challenging job. But only you."

Kim raises her brows. "You mean you've never—"

"I said I'm not a killer," Shego says sharply, "not that I haven't killed before."

"Is there a difference?" she challenges, but Shego only sneers in response.

Night falls over them from all directions. Shego stands out in the growing darkness, and Kim can't decide if it's her skin-tone or a soft, barely-present glow. She worries the back of her chair for a moment, the padding coming away in her hands.

"Why me?" she asks eventually. The question burns as it falls from her mouth. "Why not… literally anyone else instead?"

"There  _is_ no one else. Doc would honestly want to help, but the man has no impulse control. He's been itching for DNA samples from me for years. If I can't trust Drakken not to pull something shady, that automatically means all the other villains are out."

"But I'm a hero."

"That's exactly why I'm here, Kimmie. You're not like us."

"What about your brothers?"

Shego's face twists in horror and disgust. "I'd rather go full supernova than ask for their help."

"No, I mean… what about their powers? Has anything changed?"

"Oh," Shego's cheeks dust over with green, "I haven't heard anything. I don't think so."

Kim studies her nemesis intently, searching only half-heartedly for a trap. Shego breaching Kim's personal space to perform her equivalent of grovelling is too surreal to be anything but reality. "You know I might not be able to help you, right? I'm not a scientist."

"But you can do anything, isn't that the motto?"

"And say I do," Kim retorts, "I save the day and fix your powers. What about us?"

"What  _about_  'us'?" Shego asks, air-quoting.

"What happens when that's over and you're back to normal? Do we just forget everything that happened?"

"What else? Don't get me wrong, Princess. Once this is sorted I'm going to go back to wrecking your ass, but I can't do that if the glow isn't listening. What if I burn off my own leg while we're fighting?"

"Ah," Kim dead-pans, "so this is completely for self-preservation."

"Doy."

But Shego smiles in a way Kim hasn't seen before – more open, showing teeth that aren't predatory. She slots it away in the same place she put the feeling of Shego's glove on her skin, somewhere that all Global Justice's models and algorithms might never know exist.

 

 

Big Daddy Brotherson delicately breaks a shrimp out of its shell. His gold rings glint in the dull candle-light, a thin string of sauce caught by his folded napkin. Two guards stand with their pistols on stark display behind him.

His guest barely dares to breathe on the other side of the table, an untouched Merlot glass between her stiff fingers. He wouldn't be surprised if her red dress was painted on with how it drapes over her thighs.

"It wasn't easy," he says, pulling the shrimp out of its tail by his teeth. "Harder to find than to acquire."

"But you have it?"

He dabs sauce from the corner of his mouth. "Do you think you'd be here if I didn't, Miss...?"

"No-Zone," she mutters, cheeks reddening. It takes a while for the fledgling villains to find names they like – it's why he never takes a cheque from someone who doesn't own at least one evil lair. Her slight pout makes her lips wobble like the waves in her wine; she's cute enough, he supposes, but he can't quite decide if she's fifteen or twenty-five.

"Life is all about disappointment," she replies. She'd jaded enough that he leans towards older.

"Then you're in luck, sweetheart. Give him what he wants, and Big Daddy Brotherson never disappoints."

One of his guards sets a metal briefcase in front of her. Her hands tremble as they skate over it, light dancing in her eyes. He usually doesn't deal with villains who don't have an evil credit score, but this was a... unique opportunity. "It's not… it won't… explode, or something?"

"You're the scientist, little lady."

When she opens the clasps, the air around them seems to vibrate. Twelve days, thousands of dollars in reconnaissance, and one call to the cleaners in Venice for this single contract, this one tiny shrimp of a girl. She licks her lips with a feral hunger; Big Daddy wonders for a split-second if he's just doomed this nation, the planet, or  _himself_ every time he hands the goods over. Supervillains all have that same lust for entropy that set them apart no matter how their outsides look.

"Is it satisfactory?"

The light shining from inside make her eyes look like flat, glowing discs. "It's perfect."

"It was the only piece I could find on such short notice."

"There's more?"

He shrugs. "Rumours. I believe they exist, but the collection would cost you, ah… significantly more."

Big Daddy would ask what she wants to do with it, but he's been a broker this long because he knows when _not_ to ask questions. She smiles just a little too sharply, like all his clients do a few days before they show up on the news.

"Next time we meet," she says, "you'll probably know me by name."

"Then choose a better one before you make another appointment."

She lets out a startled laugh, fixing her crooked mask. Loose, black curls spill out around her cheeks. "I know, I know. I'm kinda new to this."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I think you'll grow into it."


	3. gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gravity (n): an immense force that draws all things towards its center; a tangible, invisible weight

“Alright, slick,” Shego purred, her hands clawing, “let’s have a little fun.”

He settled back into a stance. Shego lifted one eyebrow, her own body falling fluidly in line. The paintings watched her fingers glint like razor-wire with a mute excitement.

She lashed out first. She almost always did; Shego lunged for him with a fist cocked back, grinning when he wove out of the way. Her foot touched ground and she used her momentum to bring her other leg around in a vicious crescent.

“I know who you are,” he grunted, compacting his body to brace for the blow.

“Do you?” she replied, smirking. The guard grabbed hold of her leg and made to break her knee, but Shego stepped through his grasp until they were nose to nose. “Who am I, then?”

“Someone I—“ his breath caught as she gathered him up by the collar, "shouldn’t try to fight.”

A delighted smile curled Shego’s mouth. “You’re right.”

She threw him across the room, his flashlight tumbling with him. Her plasma roared into existence in time for Shego to see him hit the ground - he struck his shoulder first and careened back into the air, skidding over and over before slamming into the far wall.

_Was that a spare, or a strike?_

Shego strolled forward. Every twitch of her fingers shifted the writhing, disorienting glow; her shadow passed through paintings like a wraith.

“Had enough, grandpa?”

After a long moment, the guard rocked to his knees, clutching his side. A trickle of blood ran down one eye. He looked at her steadily, the way ex-military henchmen always do before she pounds them through cement. “Have you?”

Shego saw his feet move before he’d properly drawn the gun, but it didn’t matter. By the time he’d fired the shot she’d already let out a halo of flame to meet it, and it fell to the ground in molten droplets.

Another flash of plasma slagged the gun in his hand. He dropped it, alarmed, and Shego leapt; her fist became a flaming hammer, falling from the sky.

It burned everything away.

* * *

 

Shego tumbles back into her body with a choked gasp, jolting in her tangle of blankets. In the darkness, she immediately categorizes the three W’s; what the fuck, where the fuck, and who the fuck?

A massive growl breaks the silence. Shego nearly jumps through the ceiling, rolling instead to the side. She presses herself to the ground and listens for a few breathless seconds, and eventually, the noise fades.

Shego lets out a disbelieving sigh. “You really weren’t kidding about this whole ‘seasonal allergies’ business, Pumpkin.”

Kim’s congested snort from the bed is her only answer.

Shego fights out of her makeshift mattress, tugging at the open collar of her catsuit. Sweat makes it cling in all the wrong places as she pulls herself into a sitting position, moonlight spilling over her feet through the slit in the curtains. She dries her damp hair with a crackle of plasma.

The clock on Kim’s nightstand reads four twenty-four in the morning. Shego rubs grit out of her eyes and looks to Kim’s closed door – the house sighs softly in its sleep, but it’s nothing compared to the diesel engine next to her.

_She’s worse than Motor Ed._

Shego crosses the room and unclasps her sweaty suit. She lets it fall soundlessly to the floor as she rummages through Kim’s dresser, coming up with a pair of baby-blue sleep shorts and a tight, white shirt.

“It’ll have to do,” she murmurs, yanking them on. She slips silently out of the room by the door instead of the stairs – two exits. Practical, just in case someone like her decides to pay a visit. 

Using a tiny ball of plasma hovering over her index finger, Shego navigates the upstairs hallway. Her memory of the Possible household is limited; teaming up with her idiot brothers she was confined to the kitchen, and her time as Ms. Go is covered in a thick, weighted fog.

There’s a linen closet dead ahead, and to her left is the guest room she slept in while she stayed here. Shego uneasily runs her eyes over the darkened furniture and doesn’t linger, instead turning on her heel and making her way softly down the stairs.

She tracks the growth of the Possible household through photographs, all the way from the Drs. Possible on their wedding day to a laughing Kim sitting in the middle of a mudslide. Interspersed are shots from an altogether unassuming upper-middle class suburban family, save for little snippets of strangeness; the twins and their slightly-charred hair, Kim’s rotation of awards, ceremonies, and medals - what looks like a candid of Ron playing checkers with Rufus and losing.

Shego finds herself drawn to the most recent picture. By the length of Kim’s ponytail and the angle of her cheeks, it wasn’t that long ago. Shego squints at the hand-drawn tag in the corner.

“Zhejiang?” Shego murmurs, chuckling. “Is there anywhere that Kimmie _hasn’t_ been?”

There’s a light in the picture that keeps Shego there for another few moments. She knows first-hand how back-breaking and demoralizing rescue work can be, every moment of rest meaning another life lost. But Kim… despite the exhaustion there, the weight of all those people she couldn’t save, there’s a genuine joy that bubbles out of the captured moment. Shego almost puts her glowing finger to her smile before hastily drawing it back, leaving an ever-so-faint warp on the frame.

She stands at the bottom of the stairs and glances around. Going left would bring her to the hallway that connects the kitchen and living room, while going right would bring her closer to the other bedrooms. Shego never was very good at ignoring her curiosity – going places she shouldn’t was one of the biggest motivations for becoming a thief. The rush, the exploration.

And the money, of course.

She pads right, ignoring the door decorated with scorch-marks and bits of scrap metal that either spells Jim or Tim. Another bathroom, littered with cheap hair-gel and tubes of near-empty toothpaste. Shego shudders, momentarily fourteen again and sharing a bathroom with her _all_ her brothers.

At the far end of the hallway must be the Drs. Possible’s room. There’s another path that leads to their dining room behind the garage, but Shego is more interested in the metal door a few steps away from their bedroom. There’s a blinking passcode box beside it, and a cool draft seeps in from under the door. A basement? Knowing the kind of intellects that live in the Possible household, it could be anything. Her curiosity isn’t burning enough to deal with whatever nasty turret they tucked away in the high corner, its lens gleaming like an eye.

Shego circles back to the kitchen. Along the way to the breakfast nook, she picks up a mug and a teabag, near-instantly boiling the water. Fragrant chamomile drifts in fat, lazy tendrils between shafts of moonlight.

How in the fuck did she get here?

Light dances over her fingers as she takes a sip. She could always come back tomorrow, shrug it off with a _sorry, Princess, couldn’t sleep in suburbia._ Everything about this house oozes nuclear family, each picture painting a stability that makes Shego’s skin itch. A bubble of plasma lifts away from her knuckle and bursts into a miniature firework. 

_Shego, look… I know you want to jump out of that window and never come back. I can’t stop you. But if we want this thing to work, I can’t be the only one making compromises. Just… stay here tonight, and we can figure it out in the morning._

She sighs. The trees brush their spindly branches against the windows as if to comfort her.

She just has to stay here. It doesn’t mean she has to sleep.

Shego creates a second pinprick of plasma, lets it hover over her middle nail before flicking it away. A green flare rushes across the kitchen, making it to the living room before breaking off into a shower of sparks.

The faint illumination of a figure in the doorway nearly sends tea through Shego’s nose. Her hands ignite out of reflex, turning to meet the bewildered gaze of Dr. Anne Possible.

Silence stretches for seconds. Anne takes in the woman sitting at her kitchen table, clad in nothing but her daughter’s sleep-wear that’s two sizes too small, and the steaming mug of tea gripped in her burning fist. Shego watches her like a stray dog does the kennel-keeper.

“Am I dreaming?”

Shego snorts. “Afraid not, Doctor P.”

Anne considers her response before stepping across the threshold. Shego doesn’t move a single muscle, tracking the woman’s progress through the kitchen. She only relaxes when Anne reaches for her own mug.

She fishes out a bag of earl-grey, reaching for the kettle before thinking otherwise - the old-fashioned gift from Nana Possible has a shriek so loud it could wake up the Stoppables next door. Shego wordlessly holds out her still-glowing hand, flash-boiling Anne’s tea like she did her own. Anne looks on in polite interest.

Shego cracks a smirk when Anne continues to stand there. “It’s your kitchen, y’know. You can sit.”

“I’d feel a little more comfortable if you extinguished your hands first.”

“I- oh. Right.”

Once the green light vanishes, Anne takes her seat. Shego’s never seen her and Kim side by side, but she doesn’t have to. Her hair catches like embers in the light.

They hold each other’s gaze. Outside, the wind murmurs.

“Ask the easiest question first,” Shego recommends. Anne drags her eyes slow up her body, lingering on her powerful thighs nearly bursting out of her daughter’s sleep-shorts.

“Why are you in my kitchen?”

“That’s not the easiest question.”

Anne hesitates. Shego shifts, the shadows around her articulating, etching her exposed mid-riff like an alabaster statue. “Why are you wearing Kim’s clothing?”

“I only have one suit, and it’s uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“That’s not an easy answer.”

Shego shrugs. “Never promised you one of those.”

“Shego,” Anne warns, and her voice only wavers a little, “why are you here?”

Without the gloves to pick her claws, Shego can only curl her fists. Anne sits, still as stone, half-wondering if these are her last moments on earth.

“I’m sick. I think.”

Anne blinks. A quick, professional thrill goes through her bones before she can stop it. “Sick?”

“I don’t know,” Shego says, “I don’t feel… bad. Honestly, I feel pretty fucking good.”

“Language,” Anne admonishes, fielding Shego’s incredulous stare.

“Lady, I’m nearly thirty. I can swear if I want to.”

“And I’m half-way to fifty. That just means I can pull seniority.”

“Half-way to—“ Shego squints at her through the dark. “Christ, are all the Possible women like you and Kimmie?”

Anne arches an eyebrow.

“Fine,” she sighs, “I’ll… tone it down.”

Anne takes the time to sip her tea, knowing it’ll still scald her tongue.

“I asked Princess for help,” Shego says. Her eyes don’t leave her mug. “That’s why I’m here.”

Branches outside the window cast shadows over them; they dip themselves in Anne’s tea as she gathers her thoughts, dappled in the steam it gives off.

“Why?”

She jerks her head up. Anne’s fingers tighten on her mug, an instinctive twitch.

“What do you mean, why?”

“You’re enemies, Shego. Why do you think Kim would help you?”

 “I… Cupcake is a hero, it’s what she does.”

Anne frowns. “So you’re going to take advantage of her selfless, giving nature?”

“No, I—“

“Use this opportunity to get closer and try to ruin her life again, like in junior year?”

“That was—“

“Then what? Intimidate her into helping you? Blackmail her? Cut off her other hand?” Anne leans forward. “Don’t misunderstand me, Shego. I believe all people are worthy of help – I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t. But you aren’t just a person. You’re someone who has returned my daughter to me bloody, beaten, and broken over and over again. Just two weeks ago, she had ribs the colour I’ve only seen in high-mechanism trauma patients.”

Shego winces. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Isn’t it? You _are_ her nemesis.”

Darkness flows over Shego’s face like water. She reheats her tea with a burst of plasma that leaves bright stars behind Anne’s eyes.

“Kim is… the best rival I’ve ever had,” she says eventually. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had a lot of enemies, but she’s _my_ enemy, you know?”

“Shego, that was the definition of personal.”

“No, you don’t get it,” “Think of it more as a… work relationship.”

“What, like colleagues?”

“Yeah. We’re all employees in the end, aren’t we? Our workplace is just a lot more global than most. Kim and I both know the risks, and whatever we dish out is… well, to be honest, way above standard. But it’s just part of the job.”

Anne rubs her temple. The wind picks up outside; Shego watches the lemon trees sway like a bloom of algae.

“Fine,” Anne says, “maybe I can wrap my head around you being… professional acquaintances. But doesn’t that mean you should have some sort of benefits? Evil healthcare?”

“I fall a little bit outside of ‘standard care’, doc. Hospitals never know what to do with me, and I never wanna stay long enough to let them figure it out.”

“Then surely Drakken would know something. Or maybe… who was it Kim would mention? DNAmy?”

Shego snorts. “If you had powers like mine, would you be so eager to give up your genetic material to a bunch of mad scientists?”

Anne concedes with a tilt of her head. “That still doesn’t answer my question. I’m sure you have more than enough money to find a team of world-class specialists.”

Shego drags her glowing finger around the rim of her mug. “Until Hong Kong, I’d never shared the glow with anyone. Didn’t know I could. It’s always just been… mine.” Steam circles turn into a wispy pillar. “The fact that it reached out to her means it made my choice for me.”

Anne softens, but Shego scowls. “Don’t read too much into it. I’m only playing Twenty Questions Tea Party because this is your house and I really don’t want to run from police right now.”

“You wouldn’t get very far in your current outfit, would you?” Anne peers down between the table and Shego’s midriff. “You’ll need to go shopping if you’re going to stay here.”

“I can always go shop—wait, what?” Shego blinks. “Staying here?”

“You’re a wanted criminal, Shego. We can’t have you just coming in and out of the house multiple times a day.”

“No, I mean—“ Shego growls, raking her hand through her hair, “God, I bet all the Possible women _are_ like this!”

Anne takes a sip.

“I have my own house, you know. Four of them. And a lair or two.”

“And yet, here you are at four—“ Anne glances to the clock, “five in the morning, sitting in my kitchen. I wonder why that is?”

“Because your daughter is deceptively coercive.”

“That runs in the family, too.”

Outside, the breeze picks up to a gale. The slowly dawning sky is a deep blue-black, its clouds bloated with rain. Shego doubts they’ll see the sun at all today.

“I gotta ask, doc. Why?” Shego props her chin in her palm. “After all I’ve done over the years, why indulge me? You should be running away screaming, not letting me sleep in your bed.”

Anne swirls her tea with a twitch of her wrist. “I don’t necessarily think you’re a bad person, Shego.”

Shego lets out a bark of a laugh, but Anne holds her hand up to silence her. “Don’t mistake me. You’ve done some very bad things, and made some choices I am personally against. But when you lived with us as Ms. Go, we got to know a different side of you.”

The other woman sneers. “That goody-goody wasn’t me.”

“Maybe not, but have you forgotten that I’m a neuroscientist? I might not understand whatever device you were exposed to, but I know the brain, Shego. Traits don’t suddenly appear and disappear. Whoever Ms. Go was, she was one facet of your personality – a part of you.”

Shego smirks, a bit too viciously to be amused. “What? You saying that deep-down, I’m a hero just like Princess? I’m going to turn over a new leaf if she works on me enough?”

“No,” Anne responds simply, “I don’t. That isn’t who you are. But morality is rarely black and white, and I trust my daughter’s judgment. If she’s willing to give you a chance after what you’ve done to her, then so am I.”

Shego leans back in her seat, tension slowly unraveling across her shoulders. “You might regret this.”

“I might. It’s up to you to prove that I won’t.”

* * *

 

_Bee-beep. Bee-beep. Bee-BEEP. Bee-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEE—_

_CRUNCH._

Kim slowly withdraws her arm back into her quilt. She tucks it to her eyebrows to escape the encroaching morning, flipping over and stuffing her hand underneath her cheek.

“Ow,” she grunts, blinking hard. Tiny shards of plastic flake off her hand and litter her pillow like dandruff. Her alarm clock groans as it tries to recover from the massive dent where the snooze button used to be. Kim rubs her eyes, careful not to grind plastic into them, and slowly sits up.

“What a weird dream,” she murmurs, stretching. “For some reason, Shego was—“

Her eyes float to the crumpled catsuit by her dresser, next to a mass of blankets. An _empty_ mass of blankets.

“ _Shit!”_ Kim lunges out of bed, tripping herself up twice before she makes it out the trap-door. She skips most of the steps, landing heavy and pivoting towards the first sound she hears – voices in the kitchen. What if they’ve already seen Shego? What if she’s gone? No, she can’t be gone, her suit is upstairs. So what if it was all a trick? Waiting until Kim was asleep so she could… do what? Kidnap them? Kill them? Extort their secrets?

Kim skids into the doorway. “Mom!” she half-shouts, but Anne barely even looks up from the stove.

“Oh, morning Kim. I’m afraid you slept through the pancakes.”

“Slept through the…”

“Yeah,” Shego chimes in from the table, “they were really good. I ate your share.”

Kim slowly looks at her. What used to be a mountain of food on Shego’s plate is now down to the last sausage and one tiny piece of pancake. She smiles and pops them both in her mouth at once.

“You super-powered folk sure do eat a lot,” James says from behind his newspaper. Shego has an identical mug of coffee sitting next to his. “Even more than our boys.”

“You should see how much food my brothers put back,” Shego drags some bread along her plate, soaking up her egg yolks. “It’s a little scary.”

James shudders. “What’s scary is that grocery bill…”

“I’ll pay next time.”

“No need,” Anne says, “you’re a guest.” She glances at her mostly-empty egg carton. “Though, if all meals are like this, we may have to revisit that policy. Kimmie, are you having eggs?”

“Uhh…” Kim sits down on the opposite edge of the breakfast nook, the Tweebs between her and Shego. “Sure. Can someone also tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Language!” say three different people in the kitchen. Only one of them is wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Shouldn’t you know, sweetheart?” The pan hisses as Anne cracks some more eggs. “You’re the one who invited her in yesterday.”

“I don’t know if invite is the right word…”

“You don’t want me here?” Shego clutches her chest. “I’m hurt. I thought we had something.”

Kim scowls. “It’s too early for this.”

Anne places coffee down in front of her, and Kim gratefully closes her hands around the mug. “Okay, let me rephrase the question. Why am I the only one freaking out?”

“Because you’re neurotic and high-strung?” Jim offers.

“Or maybe a control freak!” Tim continues.

“They have a point,” Shego smirks.

“ _So_ not helping.” Kim takes a long sip. “Mom, Dad, are you… sure? About this?”

“I don’t know, Kimmie. Are you?”

“Uh…” she glances over to Shego, who is suddenly very interested in her coffee mug. “Yes?”

“Then why are you trying to change my mind?”

Kim flushes.

“Shego and I had a nice, long talk this morning,” Anne says, scraping scrambled eggs and some sausages onto Kim’s plate. “After she scared me half to death, of course.”

“My bad, doc.”

“She explained why she’s here, and what she needs. We agreed it would be easiest to let her stay here for a while.”

Kim closes her mouth just in time to stop scrambled eggs from falling out. “ _Staying_ here? Permanently?”

“Only until we figure out what’s up, Cupcake. Doy.” Shego spears a piece of bacon from Jim’s plate.

“Hey! Give that back!”

Her hand starts to glow ever so faintly. “You wanna try and take it?”

“Shego…” Anne warns.

“Hey, they’ve been staring at my tits all morning. Consider it collateral for how much restraint I’m showing by _not_ burning them to a crisp.”

“Boys!” James frowns. “Eyes to yourselves. We raised you better than that.”

As they grumble, Kim finally registers what she’s wearing. “Hey! That’s _my_ shirt!”

“What tipped you off?”

“You’re gonna stretch it out! _And_ my shorts!”

Shego grins. “Are you calling me fat, Kimberly?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Girls,” Anne says, “no fighting at the table.”

“We aren’t fighting,” Kim says through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Nothing’s broken.”

“Or on fire.”

“Can you really make things explode?” Jim asks.

Anne sips her coffee. “Remember when she tried to reheat your eggs?”

“That was just a concussive blast,” Tim argues. “We want to know if she can make, like, a grenade.”

Shego manifests a tiny plasma spark on her finger. “I can definitely give you a concussion.”

James clears his throat abruptly. “What are your plans for today, Kimmie-cub? Studying for that exam?”

Kim sighs. “Maybe later. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.”

“Bigger than your future?”

Shego rolls her eyes. “Everyone know ol’ Betts has a major hard-on for the Possible brand. Kimmie could drop out of school and strip full-time, and she’d still kiss her boots and beg her to become an operative.”

“Considering I’m putting the brakes on my study time for _you_ ,” Kim grinds out, “maybe you should be a little less critical.”

Shego shrugs. “Wasn’t being critical. Stripping is a perfectly valid career choice.”

“Like you’d know.”

“You’d be surprised. I wasn’t always a villain.”

Kim pauses. “Wait. Did you actually…?”

Shego smirks, her lips curling over the rim of her mug. “Looking for advice?”

“I need to call Wade today,” Kim hurries to tell her father. She drowns her sausage in ketchup before eating it, ignoring Shego’s disgusted glance. “Maybe he’ll have an idea of what’s going on with the Supreme Grouch over here.”

“Ah-buh-buh-buh,” Shego leans forward. “Hold it. Did you say Wade? As in, Nerdlinger? There’s no way I’m letting him get his Cheeto-dust fingers on my information.”

“You seem to forget that Team Possible is a _team._ You ask for one, you get all of us.”

“Your family is full of super-geniuses! There _has_ to be enough brains at the table already.”

James rubs his chin. “I don’t know. From what I’ve seen, your abilities require a detailed understanding of physics _and_ biology, especially with how they interact. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Shego scowls. “Isn’t there a physicist _and_ a biologist at this very table?”

“That doesn’t mean we know everything,” Anne reminds her. “I’m a neuroscientist – I don’t know that much about the rest of the body. The problem with specialists is that we’re often blind to anything not in our specific fields of study.”

“And Wade is as generalist as it comes,” James tucks his newspaper away. “Just like our Kimmie here.”

Shego doesn’t say anything, but the tightness around her mouth tells volumes. James scoots out from the table and kisses Anne’s temple, filling his mug again before he goes.

“Work again?” she asks, taking a small bite of her own food.

“Mhm. The calibration isn’t going as we’d hoped on the new shuttle, so I need to go take a look at it.”

“Dad, can we come? We think—“

“—that it has something to do with the reverse propulsion—“

“—and we can fix it. See?”

Tim dives under the table and comes up with five pages of hastily scribbled formula, double-sided. Kim spies an awful lot of infinity symbols before her father takes it from them.

“Let’s see… energy gradient… indirectly correlated with the epsilon factor… coupled with…” James squints. “Is that a sketch of the Space Center’s top-secret rocket?”

“Whoops,” Jim flips the paper in his hands. “You didn’t see that.”

“I sure as sugar did, boys! What are the two of you… hold on.” He brings the paper closer to his face. “Is this a zero, or a sigma?”

“Sigma.”

James grins so wide his cheeks might break. “Then this might work! Get in the car, we have a rocket to fix!”

The twins scramble out from the breakfast nook, bumping their gangly knees and elbows as they do. Something that could be passed for a farewell floats down the hallway as they slam the door – from the driveway is the distinctive slap of a high-five.

James plucks his white coat from the wall. “We’ll be home for dinner, dear.”

“It’s brain loaf tonight.”

“My favourite! Have a good day, Kimmie-cub.” He plops a kiss on her forehead. The naked dread on Shego’s face makes him settle with a wave. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Shego mutters, but he’s out the door before it can sink in.

Silence stretches out between the three of them. Shego downs her coffee in one last mouthful and stands so quick that the table rattles a little.

“Excuse me, I have to go and question my life choices. Thanks for the food, doc.”

“Don’t forget you have to go shopping!” Anne calls after her.

“Yeah, yeah.” In the span of a few seconds, she disappears up the stairs. No matter how hard Kim listens, she can’t hear her footsteps.

“That was… interesting.”

Kim slumps down in her seat. There’s already a headache nagging between her eyes, and it isn’t even ten yet. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay with taking in an anti-social, combative criminal? Is _Dad?_ ”

“You already asked that.” Anne refills her coffee mug. “Or did you not believe my answer?”

“Hello? Wanted criminal? I’m just confused why you’re so… so _calm_ about this.”

“Is that why you hid her in your room like a forbidden boyfriend?”

Kim flushes pink over the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t—okay, fine. Maybe a little.”

“Do you want me to be angry?” Anne raises her eyebrows. “I could ground you, if you’d like. We’re still on the fence about Hong Kong.”

“N-no,” Kim takes a rushed bite of her sausage, “that won’t be necessary.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, the _click-click_ of her fork on her plate the only sound apart from another percolating pot of coffee.

“I just don’t understand why you trust her.”

Anne glances up. Kim won’t meet her eyes, spreading the remainder of her scrambled eggs around her plate.

“Do you?” Anne asks.

“No! Well…” Kim frowns, “not really, I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t, or you shouldn’t?”

“Both. Neither?” Kim rubs at her temple. “She’s just… she’s so…”

“Shego?”

“Enigmatic. I swear she does it on purpose.”

“She might.” Anne rinses off her plate in the sink, leaving the pans to soak. “It gets a rise out of you.”

Kim scowls. “You’d think she’d try and be nicer to someone she asked for help.”

She squeezes Kim’s shoulder as she passes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Just remember that out of all the people in the world, Kimmie-cub, she came to you before anyone else.”

( _“Do you trust me?”_ )

Kim groans. “But _why_?”

“If you give it a chance, maybe you’ll find out.”

* * *

 

The dreary day outside pulls the masses of bored teenagers, shift workers, and gossiping mothers into the comforting, if slightly stale heat of Middleton Mall. Kim slurps obnoxiously on her blue raspberry slushie, keeping pace with Shego despite half-hearted attempts to speed up.

“Explain to me again exactly why you had to come with me?”

“Because I don’t trust you not to steal anything.”

Shego’s brows rise above her sunglasses. “Princess, I could buy half this mall.”

“Yeah, but what about the other half?”

“Safe from my sticky fingers. This slice of Middle America isn’t exactly what I’d call _couture._ ”

Kim frowns. “We have Club Banana.”

“Congratulations, one above-average store in a sea of mediocracy.”

Shego slows down to run her eyes over a forest-green shawl in a nearby window. She diverts into the store and soon has it in her hands, rubbing it between her fingers.

Kim snorts. “Didn’t know you were into grandma-chique.”

“Coming from a girl who wore cargo pants for years,” Shego doesn’t even look up, draping it over her shoulders, “I don’t think you have any room to judge. Your opinion clearly can’t be trusted.”

Shego twists in the mirror, her borrowed leggings stretched dark and iridescent like an oil-slick. Another piece of Kim’s clothing seen fit to be sacrificed.

“They were practical.”

“That’s what people say about Crocs.”

Shego throws the shawl over her arm and moves deeper into the store. Kim follows dutifully, always a step behind, watching Shego thumb fabric and fit without even glancing at the tag.

They leave the store with the shawl, a shirt, and a belt. All it takes is the wave of a black credit card.

“Can’t we go to Upperton?” Shego sighs. “I don’t think I’ve paid less than a hundred dollars for _anything_ in the last few years.”

“Just so you can play millionaire? I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, there’s no _playing_ involved.”

Kim sighs and follows in Shego’s wake, more and more goods piling up around them. Along the way she changes into one of her new shirts, but keeps the leggings on despite the jeans peeking out of her shopping bag. The brim of her overly large hat bobs when she walks.

“Do you burn easily, or something? What’s with the multiple layers of shades?”

Shego, busy observing a new pair of heels, slides her sunglasses down over the bridge of her nose. “Who am I, Kim?”

“Uh…”

“That wasn’t a trick question.”

“She… go?” Kim frowns.

“Thank you for that confident answer. You’re right. You know _what_ I am, though?”

“A pain in the ass.”

“Also right. But mostly a criminal, and a recognizable one, at that. You want these cameras to catch you chumming it up with an internationally wanted thief?”

Kim grumbles and looks away. Shego puts her sunglasses back in place, turning to the entrance of Le Bay, an upper-middle class box store that tries to reach higher than it should. The whole place stinks of old lady perfume and overpriced leather bags.

As Shego inspects a chunky jade necklace, a shiver runs down Kim’s spine. She glances around and finds nothing amiss, but someone’s gone and dumped cold water down her back. She chews her tongue for a few moments before stepping up to Shego’s side.

“Can we—“

“Is that you, Kim?”

Kim flinches. Shego doesn’t move, but her fingers change alignment on the fine, gold chain.

“It is!” The click-click of designer heels narrows in on them, and Kim groans. “Fancy seeing you here. Still haven’t left the house?”

“Bonnie,” Kim sighs, crossing her arms. “Unlike you, some of us decided to get an education.”

“Why bother with that when you have money?” Bonnie tosses her hair, a little longer than the last time Kim saw her. “Or even better yet, a rich boyfriend? Not like you would know. Stoppable still shitting nacho cheese?”

Kim’s temples pulse. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Oh, no.” Bonnie sniffs. “I’m only here for a few days to visit my family. After that I’m back to Paris.”

“Ah,” Shego interjects, “where all the rich socialite babies go to eat caviar and talk about their sugar daddies. I’m sure those shoes you’re wearing cost you a blowjob. Did he ask you to rim him, too?”

Bonnie’s piercing gaze rounds on Shego. “And who’s asking you, Memories of a Geisha?”

“Ooh, cultured.” Shego squints through her sunglasses. “Wait a minute. I know this particular brand of entitlement.”

“This is Bonnie Rockwaller,” Kim says, “Junior’s girlfriend.”

“That’s right! Hi there, _Bon-Bon_.” Shego sneers, twisting the jade pendant between her fingers. “I’d ask, but I already know what Junior’s like in the sack, and for your sake I hope he’s gotten better.”

Bonnie sputters. Kim’s jaw drops a little, fighting off the sudden urge to puke. “You—and Junior? What—how—“

“Well, when a man and a woman get drunk enough…”

“I don’t believe you,” Bonnie growls. “He’d never make the mistake of sleeping with someone who does something as tacky as wearing sunglasses _indoors_.”

Shego pulls them off, one eyebrow arching contemptuously. “Better?”

Bonnie pauses; Kim can hear the hiss and clatter of gears starting to churn inside her head. “I know you…”

“I promise you don’t.”

“No, I… you’re that crazy green bitch, aren’t you? The one that was in Kim’s locker!”

Shego gets a front-row seat to the hot flush spilling over Kim’s nose and cheeks. “Your _locker_? You had my picture? I’m flattered!”

“Shego, not now,” Kim hisses, but it’s too late.

Bonnie lets out a loud cackle, her lips twisting into an ugly smile. “Oh, this is too rich. I knew you were queer, Possible, but I guess it’s fitting – one freak for another.”

“The only freak here is you putting your obnoxiously large nose into everything!”

Bonnie gasps and folds one hand over her face. “You did not!”

Shego tilts her head. “Dish it out but you can’t take it, huh?”

“It’s always like this with her. We just had to pretend to be civil in high school.” Kim tugs on Shego’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Like hell,” Shego retorts. “I’m not letting some rich bitch get in the way of my shopping at America’s most average mall.”

“Shego, please don’t be difficult right now.”

Bonnie draws herself back up to full-height. “Listen to your girlfriend, you dumb juicer.”

Shego stops, her face unreadable, her brows drawn into a hard line. Kim counts to three, but nothing explodes.

“What did you just call me?” Her voice is deceptively sweet, almost lilting.

“You heard me. Those leggings aren’t hiding how big your thighs are, sweetheart. And don’t get me started on your shoulders. You look like a man.”

Kim grimaces. One day in Middleton and Shego is already going to get arrested. “Bonnie—“

“No, no,” Shego interrupts, pivoting neatly. There’s an aura about her, dark and dangerous, and Bonnie doesn’t know enough to pull away. “I want to hear what she thinks about my thighs. After all, you’re the not the gay one, right, Bon-Bon? Too busy bouncing on Junior’s cock for that? Or has he asked you to use the strap-on yet?”

She grins. “No wonder she’s so upset when her boyfriend is a bigger size queen than she is.”

They’re almost nose to nose, a crackling energy seething through their little bubble of space. The hair on Kim’s arms stands up and refuses to go back down. Static snaps at Shego’s fingertips, one tiny flash of electricity joining her wrist to her sleeve.

“Is there a problem here?”

Kim lets out a sound of muted relief. A balding security guard comes up to them, his eyes darting between the two women who look just as ready to bare teeth and claw at him as at each other.

When Bonnie sees him, her eyes light up.

“Officer Spalding!” she gushes, subtly shifting closer. “It’s good to see you again!”

He blushes. “Ms. Rockwaller? I didn’t expect to see you here! I thought you’d moved out.”

“Just visiting, you know how it is.” Her gaze drifts to Shego, narrowed and cold. “I was just telling Kim’s friend here that she should feel badly for shoplifting, because it’s guys like you that get thrown under the bus.”

Officer Spalding – whose nametag says Sampson – stiffens. “Is that so?”

Shego snorts. “Trust me, I have better taste than that.”

“Even so,” he steps forward, “I’d like you to hand over your bags, ma’am.”

“Excuse me?”

Kim appears at Shego’s shoulder. “Please, that isn’t necessary.”

He looks at her for a moment. “Kim Possible? I didn’t think you’d take a criminal’s side.”

“She’s not a—okay, well maybe she’s—but—she didn’t steal anything.”

“Oh, she didn’t?” Bonnie’s eyebrows go up in exaggerated surprise. “Then where’s that necklace she was looking at?”

The hand at Shego’s side begins to glow. Kim tastes ozone on the back of her tongue, herald of a coming storm.

“It’s…” Kim glances, but it isn’t in her other hand. Shego won’t meet her eyes, looking resolutely forward at Bonnie’s smug smile. Something heavy gnaws at Kim’s gut. “Shego, where is it?”

Officer Spalding’s hand drifts to the flimsy pair of handcuffs at his belt. “I’m sure we’d all like to know.”

* * *

 

The lair is dark, damp, and musty. Could a one-room hovel even be called a lair? No-Zone brushes away cobwebs with the back of her hand, some of them still getting tangled in her hair. A single shaft of light beams in from a horizontal slit near the cave’s ceiling.

“Someone went for aesthetic over practicality again,” she mutters, cradling her briefcase close to her chest. It pulses with a silent rhythm, like standing too close to a set of speakers.

Still, despite the dreary interior, it has everything she asked for in the contract. A bed, a workbench, half a kitchen, and an emergency tunnel. None of these things interest her quite as much as the focus platform in the middle of the room, a sleek and metal alien surrounded by stone. She shivers, unaware of the cold through her mounting excitement.

“Do you see that?” she asks her briefcase, stopping in front of the platform. “This is your new home.”

No-Zone flicks the switch, and ever so slowly, the lair begins to wake. Lights flicker into being, dotting the stone walls, running along the floor. Four super-strength solar panels feed the most crucial systems, but it won’t be enough for what she needs. Not that she’s worried.

She carefully unlatches the briefcase, a soft glow immediately spilling through the crack. It gets brighter and brighter until the case is finally open, a shaft of green-tinged light filling the entire space with an eerie, otherworldly haze. No-Zone swallows, her fingertips itching, begging to touch but not entirely convinced she won’t burn away.

“We have so many things to do together,” she tells it. The source of the light spins lazily a few inches above the padded interior. No bigger than her finger and smooth like polished glass, her own hungry eyes glint in the shard’s reflection. “Will you show me your secrets?”

She reaches out with trembling fingers until she grazes her prize. It bobs slightly, bouncing down and then back up, pleasantly warm. She holds it like a worshipper does the body of their divine.

The platform groans as she approaches it, its steel arms opening to receive. No-Zone gingerly places the shard in its center, taken up by the focusing beam. Power surges through the appliance from the moment they touch, alarms of all sorts beeping and shrieking in a singular cacophonous wail.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?” She grins. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait long.”

* * *

 

Kim feels the plasma surge before she sees it, and her right hand instinctively clamps over Shego’s wrist. She pulls it behind Shego’s back in an awkward arm-bar, heat licking her fingers and singeing her sleeve, channeled through Shego’s clenched fist.

“Well?” snaps the security guard. “Is there a reason you’re hesitating, ma’am?”

All at once, the flames vanish. Shego’s shoulders droop, and Kim’s grip softens in turn.

“Ms. Rockwaller said it was such a nice piece, she wanted it herself. I didn’t want it badly enough to deprive her.”

Bonnie laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“That chain.” Shego points to a gold chain peeking out of Bonnie’s coat pocket. “So beautiful, isn’t it? One of a kind.”

Bonnie sputters, shoving her hand into her pocket. “What? No! She’s lying, this isn’t—“

“Ms. Rockwaller,” Officer Spaulding – Sampson? – says, his mouth a hard line, “what’s in your pocket?”

Kim’s fingers flutter on Shego’s wrist as Bonnie draws out the very same pendant Shego was looking at. The heavy jade swings on the end, a mocking metronome.

“I’m _sure_ she was going to pay for it,” Shego smirks. Kim’s never seen Bonnie so flushed, and she takes a second to absorb the guilty throb of pleasure that shoots through her.

“I’m sure,” the guard repeats. “If you’d come with me, Ms. Rockwaller. I have a few questions.”

“We, uh, we’ll be going now,” Kim gives Shego a tug, backpedaling out of the store. Her fingers tingle with the reminder of flame. Bonnie bares her teeth like a rabid dog, a rictus of rage that would make Ron proud.

“Get back here, Possible!” Bonnie cries, but they’re already rounding the corner and out the store.

Shego’s face splits into a grin. “Oh, that was _rich_. The only thing that would’ve made it better is if I actually did lift something while they weren’t looking.”

Kim looks back. “Shego, you could’ve ruined her life.”

The thief waves her hand. “She’s too rich for that. She’ll whine and cry a little, and they’ll send her back home to Daddy.”

“I told you to behave!”

“And I _was_ behaving, right until she walked her chinchilla heels into our personal space! I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to fight back.”

Kim scowls. “Not everything is about fighting.”

Shego’s eyebrow arches. “Really? Because the second you two locked eyes, the temperature dropped ten degrees.”

Kim huffs and looks away. Shego stops dead in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed. “Why are _you_ angry? If anything, I’m the one that should be pissed.”

“Huh? Why?”

“You thought I’d stolen it, too. I bet you would have handed me over to Randy Cop over there if I’d have actually done it.”

“Well, duh!” Kim throws her arms up. “You’re a thief, that’s what you do! You steal!”

“You want to shout that a little louder, Princess?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

Shego sneers. “Why are _you_ being so immature? Past your nap-time?”

Kim’s fists curl, but the chime from her Kimmunicator stops whatever retort that was on the tip of her tongue. Shego shakes her head and whirls around. “Whatever, I’m hungry.”

She stalks off towards the food court, Kim following behind. Wade’s face fills the screen.

“What is it, Wade?”

He frowns. “You okay?”

Kim glances at Shego’s retreating back. “Great.”

“That sounds like a lie, but I’ll let it go. I have a mission for you.”

She perks up a little. “Really? What is it?”

“Nothing big. A researcher in Andula wants your help finding his files.”

“Andula?” Kim frowns. “Isn’t that the place that used to be part of Uruguay?”

“Sort of,” Wade says. “No one really owned it, because they couldn’t agree who got there first, but there weren’t any people living on it so they didn’t really care. That changed when they found billions of dollars worth of precious gems growing in caves and under rivers thirty years ago.”

“Let me guess: mayhem.”

“Absolutely. Emerald, cobalt, topaz, amethyst, pretty much anything and everything. But most importantly? Diamonds. It sent most of South America into a frenzy.”

Kim frowns. “So why are there people living there? I thought it was uninhabited.”

“It was, right up until the discovery. Everyone and their mom sent workers there. No one had won yet the land disputes yet, so it was all up for grabs. Thousands of poor, migrant workers flocked there in hopes of getting rich.”

“But instead?”

Wade shakes his head. “The usual. It was great for a little while until it wasn’t. The countries looked like they were about to go to war; the whole island was embroiled in a bitter struggle for power. They treated the workers they sent as pawns instead of people. They got fed up, banded together, and made their own government.”

Kim takes the stairs two at a time, nearly knocking over a toddler. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Only on paper. They installed the leader of the largest cartel on the island – it went as well as you’d expect.”

“Can’t this researcher ask the police?”

“You think a dictator who gets rich off what’s basically slave labor has a police force? You’re his best bet.”

Kim navigates to where Shego dumped all her bags, taking the opposite seat. She can barely make out her floppy hat in line for some sort of expensive salad.

Shego. _Fuck._

“Wade, I just remembered… I can’t. I’m, uh. Babysitting.”

Wade frowns. “Can’t you cancel?”

“This kid is a menace. Her parents begged me to take her.”

“More of a menace than a South American dictator?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

He types a few things on one of his auxiliary computers. “Fine. If you can’t go, find someone else. But he asked for you by name, Kim.”

Kim grimaces. The only person better at guilt-tripping her is her mother. “Have you tried Ron?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll get him. I’ll let you know what he says.”

The screen darkens, and Kim punches in Ron’s number. It hums a few times before giving her a picture of some trees, moving ground, and a sky that definitely isn’t in Middleton. “Ron?”

“Hey, KP!” His disembodied voice floats through the speaker. A few shakes later, and his face comes into view. “What’s up?”

“Wade just called with a mission. I need you to go to Andula.”

He grimaces a little, his eyes doing that darting-squint whenever he has bad news. “I can’t.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t?”

“I’m on a mountain right now,” he says, twisting his wrist to give her a better image. “I’m not sure where. Yori said we had to do this today.”

“I am sorry, Kim-san,” Yori says, appearing next to him. “Master Sensei said this could not wait. It is a very important day for the Monkey Spirit, and it must be done now.”

“That’s… fine,” Kim says slowly, scratching her temple. “I can find someone else.”

“Can you try Monique?” Twigs snap underfoot as the two of them fight their way through thick foliage. “She’s been on missions with you before, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Have fun talking to the Monkey Spirit, or whatever.”

“Affirmative, KP. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

She ends the call, sitting back with a sigh. Without Ron, does she even _have_ anyone that can do the mission for her? Kim debates calling Global Justice, but Betty Director seems even less likely to be fooled with such a flimsy excuse.

Could she just… leave Shego with her mom? They seem to get along fairly well together.

Until someone says the wrong thing and ends up as smoked meat.

Kim puts in Monique’s number instead and listens to it ring. And ring. And ring. She gets the voicemail – it must be pretty late in Milan.

“Hey girl, it’s Kim.” She glances up as Shego places her tray down. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a mission. Call me back.”

“Looking for love?” Shego dumps an extra protein serving on her salad, cracking open her water bottle. Kim sighs.

“Looking for help.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Wade has a mission, but Ron isn’t available. Monique didn’t even answer.”

Shego hums. “Why aren’t you going?”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“I'm a big girl, Kim. The world won’t end if you leave me here for a night.”

“It might. I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to a tracker?”

Shego gives her an unimpressed stare from over her sunglasses. “Like a common criminal? I don’t think so.”

Kim doesn’t reply, instead bringing up Andula on the Kimmunicator. It broadcasts a tiny holographic image of the area, along with the current hot-spots of violence and important gem deposits.

Shego wrinkles her nose. “Andula? That place is a shit-hole.”

“You’ve been?”

“Had a job there once to lift the biggest goddamn emerald I’ve ever seen. It was bad then, and I’d bet my right tit it’s only gotten worse. Nearly got myself scalped.”

Kim grimaces. “Definitely not somewhere I want to bring Ron.”

“Or yourself, if you can help it.”

“It looks like I’m the only one for the job. Literally no one else is available.”

“You can’t give it to… what are their names?” Shego waves her fork in a circle. “Crash Bandicoot?”

“You mean Crash Cranston? From Team Impossible?” Kim snorts. “I wouldn’t trust them with Rufus.”

“I don’t blame you. Those little freaks are terrors.”

Wade pops up on Kim’s wristwatch again. “Go, Wade.”

“You – or whoever ends up going – will be flying to the south-east, into a cove. Dr. Abdullah is a marine biologist who’s closely monitoring how the world’s oil consumption impacts ocean biodiversity and health.”

“He probably doesn’t have anything good in those reports.”

“Not for the governments, anyway. It’s old news that it’s screwing with the ecology, but it gives some pretty nasty statistics. What he’s more concerned about are blueprints for a purifying device that could be deployed to help clean up the waters – the thieves got those, too.”

“He’s sure they’re civilians?”

“They’ve already contacted him and demanded money.” Wade magnifies an area of the coast, a little research lab half-submerged in water and a village a few miles away. “He doesn’t get much funding, either, so he can’t afford to pay them.”

Shego eyes the rotating hologram of his lab. “That looks like it cost a pretty penny.”

“Who helped him set up, Wade?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. I didn’t ask.”

A red dot blinks in the ocean, close to the shore. “You and Ron will be docking through submarine. I’ve already got you a ride.”

“About that…” Kim scratches the back of her neck. “Looks like I’m going solo on this one. If I’m going.”

Wade frowns. “What? Why?”

“Ron’s not available.”

He leans forward. “I’m not letting you go alone, Kim. This area is really unstable, it’s not safe.”

“No big. I’ll be in and out before anyone notices I’m there.”

Wade, however, crosses his arms. “There’s a good chance the entire village is in on this. They don’t know who you are, and won’t hesitate to shoot first, ask questions later.”

“He’s right,” Shego says through a mouthful of leaves. “It’s a great way to turn yourself into Swiss cheese, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“And your mom would never allow it,” Wade finishes smugly, before pausing. “Wait. Who said that?”

“Not important, Wade,” Kim groans, kicking her feet. “ _Some_ one has to go!”

“Then find a partner, or I’m canceling and you can go babysit. We’re not taking chances after the last few weeks you’ve had.”

The connection cuts out again, and Kim slumps in her chair. Shego watches her sulk.

“You know… you could just _not_ help him.”

Kim shakes her head. “He asked for my help. I can’t ignore him.”

“It’s not your obligation to sort out every poor schmuck who gets themselves into hot shit.”

Hot shit is right. The more Kim reads on Andula, the less enticing it seems. Riots, hunger, poverty, oppression. A human rights violation already brewing, swept under the rug because it’s in some forgotten piece of the world no-one with a smartphone cares about. The injustice of it all makes Kim’s skin itch.

“Nobody wants to help them, Shego. Don’t they deserve someone on their side?”

Shego shrugs and goes back to her salad. Kim isn’t sure she wants Monique to call her back, suddenly unsure about dragging her into a literal warzone. She needs someone who can watch her back physically, as well as mentally. Someone who thinks like she does. Someone who’s used to high-stakes, adrenaline rush missions that could leave you dead at the smallest misstep. Someone like…

Kim’s foot touches Shego’s shin.

“What?” the older woman says, not looking up.

“Shego…”

Her fingers stiffen on her fork. “Whatever it is, no.”

“Shegoooooo…”

Hesitantly, she looks up. Kim hits the switch for the puppy-dog pout and lets it bathe the other woman. “Gah! What?!”

“Will you come with me to Andula?”

“Fuck, no! I don’t want to spend my Thursday in a muggy hell-hole!”

“Please? I won’t have to make you wear a tracker!”

“Like hell you’d _make_ me do anything!”

“Pleaaaaaaaase?”

“No!” Shego scowls. “I’m not a hero, Kimmie. I gave up that shtick a long time ago.”

“It’ll just be one time! No one has to know!”

“What am I, your college experiment?”

Kim flushes, but refuses to back down. Shego’s jaw trembles with how hard it clenches. Another type of electricity surges through their space, less violent than their interaction with Bonnie but no less captivating.

Shego glares at the table. The plastic fork in her fist snaps; Kim wouldn’t be surprised if the table spontaneously burst into flame.

_She’s probably coming up with another way to tell me to go fuck myself._

“Fine,” Shego gets out, the words like sandpaper.

Kim’s jaw drops. “Really?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I won’t! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She almost goes in for a hug before remembering who’s on the other side of the table, settling instead for a hard, excited bounce on the seat. “I’ll go tell Wade!”

Shego slumps, her cheek leaning on her fist. “You do that.”

 


	4. nebulae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **nebula(e):** an interstellar cloud of dust that will eventually become a stellar object. a mystery; a beginning.

"Absolutely not."

Kim, three-quarters of the way into her suit, pauses. Anne catches a glimpse of her ribs, mottled like an overripe banana.

"But Wade's already got a ride!"

"Then he can cancel." Anne frowns. "I told you, no missions."

"You said no missions for two weeks, preferably three. It's been three and a half."

"And you still aren't fully healed!"

Kim pulls her hair out of the collar of her suit, bounding downstairs for a quick bagel. Shego files her nails at the kitchen table, knees pulled up and braced against the edge. Anne crosses her arms. "Don't make me pull the physician card, Kimberly Ann."

"Ooh," Shego mutters under her breath, "she used your full name. You must be in sh-trouble."

"Don't you try your luck," Anne points. "You're in hot water, too."

"Hey, I'm an innocent party in all this. She used the pout. That thing should be classified as a dangerous weapon."

"Wouldn't you have had enough exposure by now?"

Shego raises a brow. "When Kimmie and I meet, we're usually trying to beat each other senseless. No pouting needed."

Kim stuffs half a bagel in her mouth. "Th'onth t'rry. 'll ph ka'y."

"Zero points for pronunciation, but a three for effort."

She swallows. "I said don't worry, it'll be fine. It's an easy one. We just need to get some files back."

Anne sighs. "When are any of your missions ever easy?"

"Especially to Andula," Shego adds. "That place is probably the closest we have to hell on earth."

Kim swats her arm. "Not helping."

Shego shrugs. "I don't wanna go. If your mom grounds you, better for me."

"I have half a mind…"

Kim circles in front of her mother, grabbing both of her hands and sinking to her knees. "Mom,  _please_  let me go. I'm going crazy without any missions, and my ribs barely hurt anymore. I'll be careful!"

"Barely hurt isn't the same thing as healed, Kim."

"Maybe, but it's not like I'll be fighting Shego."

Shego smirks. "The day's still young."

"And that's another thing we need to talk about." Anne frowns. "I don't know if it's a good idea for you to go on a mission together."

"Finally! Someone said it!"

Kim bounces on her knees. "But she's probably like… the second best person for the job. Besides Ron."

Shego scoffs. "Please. I'm not your sidekick, but I'll do a better job than he ever did."

"Ron isn't an internationally wanted villain, Kimmie-cub. Or your nemesis."

"Listen to the woman, Kimmie." Shego buffs her nails. "She's got the most brains out of all of us."

Kim nearly growls. "Can you stop being a smartass for once in your life and help me?"

"Mmm…" Shego straightens her fingers to inspect her handiwork, "no."

"See?" Anne squeezes Kim's hands. "This is exactly what I mean. If the two of you can't get along here, there's a high probability you won't out there, either. Not when it counts."

"It's… just how we talk. Like…"

"Foreplay?"

"No, Shego," Kim flushes, "definitely not like that."

"Kim…" Anne sighs. "I don't think you're ready. Especially not when it's not a normal mission."

"When are my missions ever normal, Mom? There won't be any spinning tops of doom… no turrets, no shark tank, no alligator pits…"

Shego grimaces. "Don't scratch off the alligators too soon."

"What I'm  _saying_ , is that it should be  _easier_  than normal. Especially now that I have a guide."

Kim leans forward and presses her forehead into the backs of her mother's hands. "Mom, I don't care at this point, I'm  _begging_  you. Let me go on this mission. Consider it a test. If it goes badly, I'll stop for as long as you want."

Anne opens her mouth; the tiles quake under Kim's knees. A large hovercraft alights in their front yard, its lights flooding the kitchen and bleaching everything it touches. Moments later, her Kimmunicator dings.

"It has to be Wade," Kim says. She looks up at Anne with large, hopeful eyes. "Can I answer?"

Anne takes a deep breath of air. "I… talk to Wade. Can I see you for a moment, Shego?"

"Great," Shego mutters, passing Kim in the alcove. "Now  _I_  get the fall for this."

Kim brings Wade up on her wristwatch. "Go, Wade."

"Your ride for Andula has arrived."

"I noticed. It's blinding me in my own kitchen."

"Are you ready?"

"Almost." She zips up her suit. "I think my mom is letting me go, but she's still a little on the fence."

Wade nods. "Understandable. Andula isn't a nice place."

"So I keep hearing…"

She eats the other half of her bagel, slower this time. "What have you got for me?"

"Your suit, obviously; climbing rope and a grapple hook, smoke bombs, and night vision goggles. It's more of a stealth mission, so I've packed accordingly."

"Spankin'. Will all that fit in my suit?"

"There's a backpack to go with it. Waterproof, of course."

"You rock, Wade. Any new details about the mission?"

"Shouldn't I wait for your sidekick to show up?" He frowns. "You got one, right?"

"Uh… yep."

A moment of silence goes past. Wade's brow arches. "You gonna tell me?"

"Not right now, nope."

"Huh? What does  _that_  mean?"

"It  _means_  I'll tell you when we're safely on our way to Andula." She spies Shego coming out of the living room. "And there they are! I'll call you back, gotta go bye!"

Her screen dims, and she meets Shego by the front door. She lasts about three seconds. "What did my mom say?"

"That she'd lobotomize me if anything went wrong."

"I…" Kim tilts her head, "don't know if she's being serious."

Shego frowns. "Neither do I. It's scary, but kinda hot."

"Ew, Shego! That's my mom!"

The dark cloud draped across Shego's shoulders lifts a little. She grins. "And? Your mom's pretty fine, especially for her age."

"Not listening!" Kim bolts for the door. She shouts over her shoulder as she books it for the hovercraft. "Bye Mom! We'll be back eventually!"

A hand grabs her wrist. "Oh no, young lady. You aren't getting away with anything less than a proper goodbye."

Kim sighs, enveloping Anne in a tight hug. "Bye, Mom. We'll see you soon, hopefully."

"No hopefully about it. Stay safe, be careful, and be smart. Okay?"

"I will."

"Don't go looking for trouble."

"I won't."

"And try not to fight with Shego. You two are allies right now."

"That one might be a  _little_ harder."

"Kim…"

"I'll try, okay!" Kim squirms out of her grip. Shego already slunk away to the hovercraft, the shadow of her foot just barely visible in the hold. "I'll try."

"Good." Anne kisses her forehead. "Love you, Bubble-Butt."

"Love you too, mom!"

Kim dashes across her front yard, a mess of wind and sound and light. The hold is sparse, but thankfully with spacious seats for the long journey ahead. She's barely sat down when the hovercraft begins to lift, slowly rising up over the clouds.

"Thank you for the ride!" she calls into the cockpit. A moment later, a man's great bearded face pops up from the pilot's seat.

"It's no problem, young lady! Not after you saved me and my family from those stampedin' buffalo!"

"Psht, no big, Mr. Stewart." Kim chuckles. "Anyone could've started a brush fire to change their direction."

"God," Shego groans, "I'm gonna be sick."

Mr. Stewart frowns. "Your friend not so good with flyin'?"

"She's a great flyer." Kim kicks her seat. "She's just not so good with the complaining."

"I could fly circles around either of you," Shego scowls. "I just don't wanna hear about Ms. Perfect over here the entire ride."

"We could always talk about what we're gonna do when we get there."

"We've got twelve hours, Pumpkin. Let's not tire ourselves out." Shego pulls out her phone. "Maybe more, actually. Is the Dominican on our flight path?"

"It… could be?" Kim frowns. "Why?"

"There's something I need to pick up. It'll only take a second."

Kim opens her mouth, but eventually shakes her head. "I'll ask when we get there."

Shego smirks. "Good girl. You're learning."

She fiddles with the seat until it leans back enough for her to recline. Shego stretches, kicking her feet up on the chair next to Kim. "Now, I didn't get much shut-eye playing doctor with your mom, so I'm gonna take a nap. You wake me up before the Dominican and there will be pain. Lots of it."

"Going on a mission with you will be painful enough."

One of Shego's eyes crack open. "You're the one who dragged me here. Only I'm allowed to complain."

Kim rolls her eyes. "You'd complain anyway."

Shego settles down into her seat, the picture of languidity. "You really  _are_ learning."

The hovercraft hums and whirrs as they fly, finally gaining enough altitude to break through of the intense cloud cover. The bright blue sky is almost blinding, and Kim is seized with the sudden, desperate ache to be outside instead of in.

The light washes Shego's right cheek and jaw in its intense glow. Against it, the darkness of her lips looks deep enough to drown in.

"Shego?"

"… yes, Kim?"

"I'm… sorry I yelled at the mall. Seeing Bonnie get shut down like that actually felt kinda, well… good."

She doesn't open her eyes, but her smile is genuine. If a little smug. "Isn't it great when karma bites people in the ass?"

"A little."

"I'm glad you agree. Now be quiet. Sleepytime."

_Is being here your retribution, Shego?_  Kim thinks, watching the older woman turn over.  _Or mine?_

* * *

Five minutes after lifting back from the Dominican, Shego with black duffle in hand, Kim's wristwatch beeps. She scratches her eyebrow.

"It's Wade."

"Clearly. You gonna answer?"

"I can't keep ignoring him forever."

Shego grins, slowly, as if savouring it. "He's gonna flip."

Wade's hologram appears over her watch, arms crossed. "Ready to tell me about your mystery sidekick?"

"Partner," Shego says from her chair across the hold.

"Fine, partner." He frowns. "Wait, what?" His hologram turns, but without Kim angling the camera, he's blind. "Kim, I'm starting to get annoyed."

Kim rubs the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Wade, um, I brought… Shegoasmypartner."

"Come again?"

Shego plonks herself down in the vacant seat next to Kim. "'sup, Nerdlinger."

Wade stares.

"I told you not to call him that."

"And I told you that if your mom takes away my swear-words, I get to keep my nicknames. It's only fair."

"Hold on!" Wade puts his hands up. "You're telling me… that you have an internationally wanted  _supervillain_  as your sidekick?!"

"Partner," Kim and Shego both say at once.

"Whatever! Kim, this is  _wildly_  uncool! You're taking a criminal into one of the most corrupt places on Earth!  _Your_ nemesis! What if something happens?"

"Yeah," Shego snorts, "I'll sell her to my illegal harem in Andula. Or maybe to the blood mines."

Kim elbows her. "If anything, having Shego is going to be an asset. She'll know more about this place than either of us."

"You know it's a hell-hole, the rest is just bonus."

"I—wh—how—"

"Breathe, Wade." Kim adjusts the brightness of his hologram, gleaming in his distress. "I've thought this through."

"Have you?" Shego stage-whispers.

Wade takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. Finally: "How did you even contact her?"

"Uhhh…"

"Do you have her phone number? Why do you have her phone number? Please don't tell me you used the villain-net, there's stuff there you really shouldn't see."

Shego arches a brow. "Aren't you younger than her?"

"That doesn't matter right now!" Wade explodes. A vein throbs in his temple; Doctor Drakken after one too many interruptions. "Kim, have you forgotten what she did to you?!"

"No, Wade," Kim grunts, "I haven't forgotten. I probably never will. But Shego and I… we… uh…"

"Christ, Kim," Shego mutters under her breath, "is telling the truth really that hard?"

"Like you'd know."

"Kimmie and I are shacking up," Shego says.

Wade's jaw drops.

"Not in that way, Nerdlinger. Get your teenage skull out of the gutter."

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose. "Is there literally no other way you could've worded that?"

"You had your chance."

Wade's hologram waves his arms. "But why? For how long? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because this only happened yesterday." Kim leans back in her chair. "Trust me, I'm still kind of digesting it, too."

"You still haven't told me why." Wade frowns. "Does Ron know?"

Kim averts her eyes, and Wade slaps his hands down on what must be his desk. "Seriously, Kim?"

Shego pulls out her nail-file. "God, I'm glad I don't have friends."

"I was going to, I promise! I just… got distracted."

The older woman smirks. "I  _am_  very distracting."

Kim points a finger at her. "You, shush." She turns back to Wade. "Ron's with Yori, I haven't had chance. And to be honest, Shego and I really haven't been able to talk about what we want, either."

"Kimmie," Shego sighs, "weren't you the one who just complained about phrasing?"

"So…" Wade squints, "there's a reason for this? Reality isn't just collapsing on itself for fun?"

"Come on, Mr. Robot, I thought you were supposed to be a genius. You think I'd follow Miss Priss into this festering cesspit  _willingly_?"

"… good point." Wade reaches for his Big Gulp, the first act of normalcy since this call started. Kim's shoulders relax a little. "Am I going to get to know why?"

"Eventually," Kim promises. "But for now, can we focus on the mission, please and thank you?"

He waffles for a moment before reluctantly bringing up the same map they saw earlier. "Andula is off the coast of Uruguay, about two hundred miles. You'll be circling around and coming in from the south-east – we're going for stealth over speed here. Dr. Abdullah will be waiting for you there."

"In his lab?"

"He'll send out an automated submarine to get you. He's closed his land-entrance after the incident with the thieves."

Shego groans. "I  _just_  washed my hair."

Wade ignores her. "His lab is situated in a particularly hot area – and I don't just mean temperature. Most of the south is under rebel control despite the army's best efforts. The line in the sand wobbles a little depending on the day, but he's pretty close to the heart of the conflict until someone loses ground."

Kim expands the map so it looks at the whole island. "What can you tell us about the government?"

"Apart from what you already know? Not much. Their current national leader is Hernando Rojas, who rose to prominence pretty early on in Andula's history. He was the leader of the largest cartel on the island – Los Halcones – before becoming the island's president."

Shego snorts. "I think you meant dictator."

A picture of a grizzled man in his fifties pops up on the hologram, complete with a close-cropped beard and grey hair pulled back into a bun. A scar runs from his ear down across his jaw, tugging the corner of his mouth a little lopsided.

Kim grimaces. "Friendly."

Wade nods. "He's put the whole place under a travel ban since the nineties. Unless you're vetted by one of his people, you're not allowed in."

"Let me guess," Shego crosses her arms. "We don't have the appropriate visas."

"I don't even think you can  _get_  visas here."

"And yet, probably the least illegal thing going on."

Kim throws up her hands. "I just don't understand why the UN hasn't sanctioned them yet! Or… sent Peacekeeping troops, or  _something_. Isn't this exactly what they've been trying to stop?"

"Officially, Andula isn't part of the UN, so they aren't subject to the same laws and pressure. Rojas took great pains to insulate it from outside influence."

"And no-one's sent in troops?"

Shego scoffs. "What would they do? They don't even have that flimsy-ass excuse that it 'threatens international peace'. Everyone would know they're just invading to get their chances at the spoils."

"And that would bring down the wrath of pretty much all South America," Wade agrees. "He trades with them both legally and illegally, so it's not like he doesn't have allies. Other countries are desperate for the resources, but not enough to risk open global scorn and conflict."

"I'm sure they eat up his blood diamonds, though."

"All rumours, of course. No-one can prove anything. But I wouldn't be surprised if Rojas does just as much of his dealings with para-governmental groups as criminal ones."

Kim slumps. "This is so messed up."

"Welcome to politics, kid." Shego ruffles her hair. "Everything is garbage, and the people are even worse."

"Some people agree, Kim." The southern mountain range zooms in to thick jungle valleys and towering, distant peaks. "There's a sizable rebel force operating out of the southern forests and valleys. They're entrenched pretty deeply and have been for years."

"Who leads them?"

"Don't know. Their leader is only known as El Fantasma – not even Rojas knows who they are. There's a pretty hefty reward out there for anyone who can identify them."

Shego squints, reading the rapidly-scrolling profiles Wade managed to dig up from Andula's databases. "There has to be someone funding them. They're too organized for it to be only locals."

"That's what I—you can read Spanish?"

Shego shrugs. "I'm half-Cuban. It comes with the territory."

Kim's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

"Strangely enough, Kimmie, I wasn't always this ghostly shade of green."

It was supposed to be light, but Shego's tongue slips on years of resentment. Wade winces; Kim's throat bobs as she swallows.

"Shego, I—"

"You have a message from Dr. Abdullah," Wade blurts. They all startle at the rapid change of light in the hold. His lab is bright and white and lofty, dug into the side of the island and submerged below. The sea shifts in the background, a murky shadow come to life.

"Hello? Kim Possible?"

"Dr. Abdullah!" Kim glances at Shego again before forcing herself to smile. "It's good to meet you."

Shego edges her way out of the seat, duffle in hand, until she can stand behind his projection. Kim cocks her head.

"You think I want anyone knowing I was here?" Shego whispers, popping the collar of her suit. " _Especially_  with you?"

The gloves come off first. Then the zipper. Kim blushes so strongly that Shego almost sees her swoon.

"Ms. Possible!" The doctor sighs, wringing his hands together. "I'm so glad you've come!"

Shego peels her suit off her thighs, taking one calf at a time. Kim struggles to stop her gaze from falling through the doctor entirely. "I-I yes, me too.  _Us_  too."

Shego smirks as she rummages through her duffle. "Doing okay there, Possible?"

Kim clears her throat. "That's my partner. She's, uh, getting ready in the back."

It's been a few years since she last put it on, and Shego has to pull a little to get the black catsuit over her legs. Dr. Abdullah nods.

"Good, good. The more the merrier. Has Mr. Load updated you about your destination?"

"We—" Shego grins as Kim averts her eyes again, "were in the middle of the briefing when we got your call. Why don't you fill us in?"

"Of course." Half his screen is replaced with a three-dimensional map of his sheltered cove surrounded by a dense, elevated ring of jungle. "It's come to my attention that my building is being watched, likely to make sure I don't call any allies. Or the government."

"How many?" Shego asks.

"I'm not sure. At least one, probably more. I'm not very good at this reconnaissance thing," he frets, polishing his glasses. "Animals are much easier to watch."

Kim studies the landscape. "So where will we be going instead?"

He zooms it in, close to where sand meets greenery. "Here." It flattens so they can observe like they're standing at the base of the hills themselves – a tiny, worn fissure winding deep into the cliffside blinks white. "This is the path they used. I never thought it was going to be a problem because of how bad the landslides have been lately."

"Tell us more about the villagers," Shego says as she zips her suit up. She stretches, flattening her palms against the ceiling. It'll do.

He clicks his tongue. "They came storming in and stole my blueprints. I couldn't stop them without getting hurt, so I let them. It has  _years_  worth of research poured into one invention, but I don't have the money they want. So I called you."

She hums. "Where do you think they are?"

"Where they said they'd be – the closest village, Monte Verde."

"Have they given a deadline?"

"Tonight. Fifty-thousand US dollars."

Shego raises a brow. "That's it? They're really low-balling here."

"Please understand, Ms…"

"Velasquez."

"Ms. Velasquez. That much money would make  _anyone_  on this island filthy rich. The government takes it all and leaves the working population with scraps – people are regularly killed over what you'd think is a paltry sum."

"Do you know who has your files?" Kim asks.

He shakes his head. "I'm not very familiar with them, I'm sorry."

Kim curses, but Shego tuts her. "Follow the herd of bad guys to find the buried treasure, Princess. It works for me every time."

"Most of the time, you  _are_  the bad guy."

"And I always have the treasure."

As Shego begins the arduous process of braiding her hair, Kim leans forward. "Why do you think they did this, Doctor?"

"The reason any labourer resorts to crime here," he sighs. "They're hungry, or tired, or scared. Often all of them."

"Is it that bad?"

"It's the worst wherever the rebels and the government have drawn the line," Dr. Abdullah says. "Unfortunately, we're both caught in the middle of it."

Wade pops up on the screen. "I can't believe you were allowed to stay."

The doctor grimaces. "I don't think  _allowed_  was the right word, but… if this gets out, I'll be chased off for sure. Or killed."

"It won't come to that, sir," Kim says. "I promise."

He smiles for the first time in their conversation. "Thank you, Ms. Possible. I will see you when you have the blueprints in your possession."

"Hey, doc." Shego sits back beside Kim, tugging out extra fabric at her throat to conceal the lower half of her face. Her braid falls long over her shoulder. "One more question."

"Yes?"

"Do you think these people deserve the money?"

"If I could pay them, I would," he says. "It's not their fault it's come to this."

They bid goodbye, and the hold is again plunged into half-darkness until Wade reappears. His soft, blue light shifts along Shego's suit like scales.

Kim looks out the window. "Somehow, it's even worse than I thought."

"That's Andula for you," Shego grunts. "Full of surprises."

Somewhere in the universe, a deity must be laughing at her. Helping Kim do the  _right thing_  in a place where there  _is_ no right thing. What kind of godawful Pandora's Box are they about to fall into?

"You're jumping in five," Wade says. "Kim, I've finished calibrating your suit around Doctor Tsang's upgrade. It's an amazing piece of technology."

"I don't think it'll be that useful today," Kim glances out the window; so high up, the world is still pitch black. Light shed from the aircraft illuminates the dark, ominous carpet of clouds gathering below.

"Maybe not, but there'll be at least a superficial charge. I've also shielded all your other gadgets, so you're good to go."

The pilot announces their descent – the hovercraft sighs as it decelerates, cutting through the thick cloud cover with nary a tremor. Kim doesn't look Shego in the eye as the hold groans and the belly of the craft gradually opens to the hungry, unforgiving ocean. Wind howls up and through like a banshee's scream.

Kim positions herself at the edge, but not before Shego grabs her shoulder.

"I got my petty revenge when we were talking to the doctor. You can stop sulking now."

Kim sputters a little. "I'm not sulking."

"Really? Then why won't you look at me?"

Her ears tint pink, and Kim reluctantly turns to meet Shego's gaze.

"Better. I'm not mad, so stop looking like I kicked your dog."

"But…" Kim frowns.

Shego rolls her eyes. "People say dumb shit all the time. You learn and move on."

Mr. Stewart peers out of the cockpit. "One minute until jump, Ms. Possible."

Kim still looks unsure, so Shego rummages in one of the pouches at her belt. "Here, a gift. Does this convince you?"

She hands off the sleek black ear-piece. Kim flips it around a few times before putting it on, startling as it automatically adjusts. Shego does the same with her matching gadget.

"I don't have a Kimmunicator, so this'll have to do."

Wade's hologram frowns. "I can't access that from here."

Shego smirks. "Oh no."

Kim smiles, her voice entirely in Shego's one ear now that the wind has increased to a shriek. "Thanks, Shego."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Something beeps on one of Wade's screens. "I've made contact with the submarine. You're good to go."

Kim's smile turns into a grin, positively beaming as she turns to face the void. She leans into the wind and lets it hold her there; only the barest light frames her silhouette, free of worry or tension. Shego steps back as Kim steps forward, her spreading fingers catching the wind that slips between them.

"See you down there!" she says, one step becoming two and three and then nothing, her slight form plummeting down into the black, black ocean. Shego watches her fall until she blends with the waves.

" _Shego, please. Promise me you'll be careful. That'll you'll look out for her." They're standing across the living room, but Shego doesn't need to be close to see how Anne's fists tremble._

_Wind crashes the lemon trees against the window. "Why don't you just tell her no?"_

" _Kim can't stand by while people suffer. You know that."_

_Shego feels the insinuation like a brand to the chest. "I'll try. I will."_

_The lights of the hovercraft drown all of Anne's features in fluorescence. Shego can't look at her directly. "… but what if I can't?"_

_Anne tilts her head; a sweat races down Shego's spine._

" _Then you run, and you don't come back."_

"Are you going, Miss?"

Shego startles. She blinks memory from her eyes and takes a step back, gritting her teeth at the gust of cold air that sweeps up from below.

_Goddamnit, Princess. When does anything we do ever go to plan?_

With a decisive leap, Shego greets the open air before following Kim into the dark.

* * *

With the clouds rolling low overhead, it's easy to miss the two sodden figures pulling themselves out of the ocean. They crawl on their bellies like serpents, water washing up and over them, until they can press themselves against a rocky outcrop in the surf.

"I'm gonna get hypothermia," Shego grunts, wringing out her braid. Seawater falls in fat, heavy droplets, gobbled up again by the waves.

Kim eyes her. "You're a human torch."

"I'm gonna get hypothermia."

"Uh-huh." Kim peers around the side of their cover, jutting from the sand like a giant's misshapen tooth. "Do you see anyone?"

Shego puts a hand on Kim's back and leans forward. No matter how hard she strains, it's just miles and miles of unbroken jungle curving around their tiny cove. "Nah. Whoever's here knows how to blend in."

"I wish Dr. Abdullah told us where he saw the scout before sending us off."

"Doesn't the lack of information make it more exciting? I thought you heroes got wet for the thrill of adventure and the unknown."

"You're the one that's complaining about being wet," Kim snips back, her ears immediately going crimson.

Shego chuckles, a rumbling vibration more than a sound. "Looks like the kitten's grown some claws."

Kim's shoulder-blades bunch under Shego's palm. It never surprises Shego, not like most people, but it's still fascinating how her fingers naturally fall in the divots of Kim's impressive musculature. "Can you  _please_  take this seriously? All we've got is the element of surprise."

"And me, of course." Shego steps back and leans out the other side of the shelter, scanning the sheer, rocky walls that close them in. "That's more than you normally have."

About a hundred meters out, the sand is scooped down and away in front of the mountains. Shego fishes out folding binoculars from her pouch and squints until she finds what she wants. "Bingo."

Kim is beside her in an instant, her slippery suit gliding effortlessly along Shego's shoulder. "What is it?"

Shego hands Kim her binoculars. "I think that's our entrance."

The hero adjusts them slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Look at the sand. See how it's disturbed like that?"

"Like footsteps," Kim nods. A wave of her hand over her Kimmunicator brings up the map again, marked now by her blinking red dot half-in the waves. "It's the right general location. Let's go for it."

Shego puts her binoculars back. "Not so fast. What about not getting seen? Maybe if we skirt around the side of the mountain—"

There's a rush of air at her side, and then Kim's feet spraying sand as she sprints towards the cliff. She's already twenty meters ahead before Shego has enough time to gather herself –  _god DAMN it Kimmie_ – and twenty-five before she starts running too.

The entire sprint she expects the bite of a bullet into her side, the sound of an alarm, but all she gets is her own harsh breathing and the quiet  _shhhk-shhhk_  of her soles on the sand. Kim banks right and disappears into the rock face.

Shego follows, nearly careening down the path that's more a muddy slope than road. It's barely wide enough to fit her shoulders, but Kim can easily turn around. She grins. "You're getting slow, grandma."

Shego rolls her eyes. "Maybe I don't want to keep up with young whippersnappers who have absolutely no sense of self-preservation."

"Psh, we weren't out of cover for more than thirty seconds."

"If they know we're here, I'm gonna take your  _element of surprise_  and shove it right up your ass."

They start walking with Kim on point. It soon opens up on one side, leaving them with only a two-foot wide crossing of slimy, sole-sucking muck between them and the jagged rocks below. Shego peers over and grimaces.

"Looks like not all the villagers made it back."

Kim catches only a glimpse of the man caught between two stones, the tide washing over him in a spray of surf. His torn and waterlogged clothes billow around him like a sheet caught in a storm. She pales a little. "They just… left him?"

Shego shrugs. "If you wanna try and retrieve him, be my guest. Just try to crack your head open on a rock so you die quickly instead of drowning."

It's too far away to see, but Shego swears one of his milky eyes glares at them as they forge onwards. Jungle vines break through the rock and make the path even more treacherous, given purchase with the landslides and earthquakes that plague the tiny island. Even here there are score-marks from pickaxes and drilling machinery, great bored holes that disappear into darkness beyond.

Eventually, the narrow path falls away, leaving them on one side of a ravine. There was once a rope bridge that spanned the divide, but whoever crossed through here last cut it from the other end and left it to dangle. Easily a fifty-foot gap, Shego can hear the distant hiss of the water as it rushes against the sides of the crevasse.

"Well, fuck." She glances around, but there's no easier crossing, and their little patch of muck and sodden ferns is flanked by cliff on either side. No going around, no going below. "Any ideas? You got that hair-dryer of yours?"

"Not in this suit," Kim scratches her eyebrow. "No pockets."

Shego rolls her eyes. "I can't believe I'm missing your cargo pants right now."

"I do have… hold on." Kim steps up to the edge and raises her right arm. After a second, a tiny, thin wire shoots out from her wrist and streaks over to the other side, falling harmlessly on the ground. "Damn. Too short."

"That seems like a serious design flaw."

"Wade can only cram so much wire into a tiny space, y'know?"

Kim fiddles with her belt, turning the ring of her buckle. Panels that Shego hadn't noticed lift from her back like aircraft flaps. "I can probably jump it."

"Probably?"

"Dr. Tsang said I can reach sixty feet in ideal conditions."

"Are these conditions ideal?"

"Well…" Kim glances up to the overcast sky, "no. But it should be okay."

Shego crosses her arms. "If you die, can I go home?"

"I'm the one with the Kimmunicator, Shego. You're stuck here with me."

"Great."

Kim circles behind Shego and reaches into her small, sodden backpack. She comes out with a coil of braided black rope that she puts in Shego's hand, and then wraps a few times around her own waist. "If I don't make it, you can pull me back up."

"Or I could not," Shego mutters, but tightens her grip anyway. Kim backpedals, close to where they exited the passage, and takes a deep breath. Shego's seen that expression a few times before – usually before their lair blew up or she delivered a particularly sick burn on Drakken.

When Kim jumps, she waits a second to get to the highest point in her arc before hitting her belt. Shego watches her body fly forward across the ravine, the rope uncoiling rapidly, and for a second it looks like she isn't going to make it. Shego digs her heels in, but somehow, Kim's ankles clip the edge and she goes tumbling along the dirt on the other side.

After a second, Kim manages to get herself into a sitting position. "I'm okay!" she says through her earpiece, and Shego shakes her head.

"Congratulations. Now what about me?"

Kim looks around, but there really isn't much to tie the rope to. She glances around before finding a large, gnarled root jutting from the cliff, and grabs it tight with her right hand.

Shego's brows lift. "Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Shego! I'll catch you!"

"Kimmie, I'm way heavier than you think I am."

"Doesn't matter." She can't see the stubborn set to Kim's jaw, but she can hear it. "I won't let you fall."

"You and what? That little root? I'm gonna rip it right outta your hand."

"No, you won't."

"What about the grapple hook? Can't you just anchor it to something?"

"Like what?" Kim spreads her arms wide. "Also, it's in  _your_  backpack. Can you throw that far?"

Shego grinds her teeth. "You really won't take no for an answer, will you?"

"Nope."

"This rope is too thin, I won't be able to hold on."

"Then tie it to your waist like I did."

"Maybe, if you want me to burst something."

Kim stomps her foot. "Shego, it's going to be fine, stop stalling! We need to find the thieves!"

"Sorry for trying to delay my slow, inevitable death," Shego grunts, looping the cord around to make a crude hip harness. She's more into sexy bondage than actual survival rope-work, but the basic principles are pretty much the same: stay secure, and stay safe.

She's not entirely sure how true the second caveat will be after all this.

As she backs up, she takes a last hopeful look around. The clouds still loom, the cliffs still tower. Shego could complain and hedge and whine all she wants, but there's only one way across the ravine. Her skin prickles uneasily as Kim ready herself on the other side.

"I can't believe I'm trusting Kim fucking Possible to save my life," she growls, backing up as far as the rope will let her. "This really is a new low."

"Life is all about being open to new experiences," Kim chirps.

"Shut up, Possible."

Shego takes a deep breath. She doesn't think when she bolts, just moves, eating up the ground in long, long strides. Ten, fifteen, twenty feet pass in a blink; she reaches the edge and her toes dig into the dirt, her powerful thighs coiling and tensing as she clears the lip and flings herself into the void.

Her body travels halfway across the gulley before she starts to fall. Shego lets out a yelp as gravity grapples her, dragging her body down towards the dark waters. She instinctively lets her hands flare and reaches out – her fists smash through the ravine's walls like twin comets, slowing her descent but not stopping it.

"Kim!" Shego calls out, instantly regretting the edge of panic in her voice.

Kim's response crackles in her ear. "I've got you!"

"Then fucking start getting m—grk!" The harness around her pelvis pulls taut all at once, a sharp pain shooting through her groin and over her hips. Shego's hands open, from fists to claws, and between the two of them they manage to hold her stationary against the wall.

There'll be some interesting bruises tomorrow.

"Are you okay?" Kim asks with unabashed worry.

Shego grunts, testing her handholds. "Been better, but not dead."

"Should I start pulling you up?"

"I'd prefer it over the alternative."

When Kim pulls, the pain between her legs only intensifies. Shego grimaces, reaching up with her right hand to burn a new hold into the stone. They pull her up the ravine inch by inch, one hand over the other.

Two-thirds of the way up, a glimmer catches Shego's eye. "Hold on," she says, and the rope supporting her stops tugging.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just think… hang on  _really_ tight."

Shego rears back, using her arms as extra momentum, and swings like a pendulum across the rock. Her feet skid along the stone and Kim grunts, taking all her weight. Shego melts a hole for her fist next to her latest shiny prize; shielded by a thin layer of grey rock, dull patches of blue shine through an otherwise unassuming hunk of stone. That familiar thieves' tingle races down her spine, a dragon that's found a new treasure.

"Maybe if I…" she cocks her fist back but thinks better of it, instead narrowing her plasma down to her index finger. Shego gathers it into a tiny beam that chews up and liquifies the stone around her excavation project, carefully carving it out of the wall.

When she gets it loose, she wiggles it until there's a  _crack_  and it falls into her hand. "Oh, holy  _fuck_ ," she whispers, staring at a sapphire the size of her fist.

She grins. "Pull me up, kiddo. Mama has what she came for."

"About time," Kim grunts. They heave until Shego drags herself over the side and sprawls out in the sodden grass.

Kim's face appears above her. "Why'd you stop?"

Shego wordlessly holds out the sapphire. Kim's jaw drops a little, eyes hungrily roaming over its dull blue lustre. "It's  _huge_."

"That's what she said. And me. Because it is."

Shego sits up, wincing as the rope bites into her already bruised flesh. "Ow, fuck."

Kim hands back her gem, and Shego stores it in the backpack. "No time to rest, come on."

Shego scowls. "At least give me a second to come to terms with the fact I'll never have kids."

Kim pops an unimpressed brow. "You'd rather die than have kids."

"Damn, Possible." Shego climbs slowly to her feet. "If that wasn't already blindingly obvious, I'd start to think you know me."

"Wouldn't that just be awful."

"Terrible," Shego agrees, unwinding the rope from where it's disappeared into the creases of her thighs, shoving it back into her backpack. Except for the gaping holes in the ravine's walls, it's like they were never even there.

As they cross to the other side of the path, they pass the branch Kim held onto. There are four obvious divots in the wood from Kim's fingers, splintered and cracked – how close had she come to plummeting into the waters?

She doesn't linger on it.

The path here is wider, but no better kept. They trudge along in relative silence and keep to the wall, ears pricked and fists ready. It starts to incline and soon they're slipping in the mud, almost crawling on their hands and knees, but they start to see signs of recent life. Footprints in the muck, the glint of food wrappers discarded, animal bones picked clean and spat out.

Dawn is finally beginning to edge at the horizon, sinking its teeth into the night. Shego wipes dirt from her cheek. "We need to hurry. If we can slip into the village while it's still kinda dark, it'll make it a lot easier."

Kim nods, nearly doubling her pace. They crest the hill and just below them, a sleepy little village sits nestled in the shadow of the mountain. Smoke lifts languidly from a smouldering trash fire – its soft yellow-orange glow bathes the lip of a wide, dirt track that disappears into the shifting trees on the far side of town. All the houses are dark except one, larger than most, situated on their left.

Shego and Kim duck down against a tree trunk, camouflaged in the darkness.

"What are you thinking?" Kim asks, trying to squint through the pre-dawn haze.

Shego pulls out her binoculars. "Are you just asking for the sake of it, or are you actually gonna listen this time?"

Kim sighs. "I don't want to get shot any more than you do."

"Good. Then pay attention."

Next to the single lit building, a man leans against a muddy truck, the end of his cigarette cherry-red in the gloom. His dusty uniform blends with his surroundings until he seems to sway with the trees.

"Fuck," Shego murmurs, "what's the  _army_  doing here?"

Another man melts out of the darkness in the same uniform. They nod at each other, and the one with the cigarette ambles away and out of sight. The other takes up post against the truck; he holds his rifle with the ease of someone used to using it.

"This just got complicated," Kim sighs.

Shego blinks incredulously. "It's been complicated since we jumped out of the goddamn plane."

She passes the binoculars. The light shining through the windows of the building flickers on the ground, cut by many bodies moving in and around. "Busy," Kim says, zooming in. "Especially so early in the morning."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Kim hums. "Follow the bad guys?"

"And find the treasure."

A lone girl leaves her house with a bucket balanced on the top of her head, leaving a wide berth around the soldier.

Shego licks her lips. "We gotta move. They're starting to wake up."

Kim murmurs a command to her suit and the white is replaced by a muddy green, her skin rippling with the changing nanofibers. They bolt as one, shadows in the rising dawn, strafing down the small decline and into the belly of the beast.

* * *

Kim presses her back to the cold concrete of the building. More bunker than house, the indistinct murmuring from inside cascades out the windows and over them. Shego crouches under a windowsill, ears pricked intently.

"What are they saying?" Kim asks.

"Just normal macho bullshit," Shego replies. Her eyes narrow as she glances around. "Either we missed a party, or it hasn't started yet."

Kim takes a deep breath, willing her thrumming heart to slow. It's been a long time since the adrenaline hit this hard; Shego might fight dirty, but at least her plasma moves slower than a bullet.

Sometimes.

"What am I looking for?" Shego peers carefully into the room for a second before ducking back down. "Files, a USB?"

"I… don't actually know. Does anyone use paper anymore?"

"You tell me, you're the one in school."

Kim takes her turn, edging close enough to look in. Half a dozen civilians sit around a table playing cards, smoking and bickering. Hand guns sit next to them, and a couple rifles lean against the far wall. A hulking man with the same dusty uniform and a shotgun cocked casually on his shoulder stands guard at the door.

Leaning against the leg of the table is a large, metallic briefcase.

"Shego, I think I found it!" Kim turns, but Shego isn't against the wall. "Shego?"

"Kimmie, don't freak out."

"Freak out about what?"

Footsteps on bare dirt. Kim's whole body tenses, but by the time she's realized there's nowhere to run, the figure turns the corner. It's the first soldier from the truck – there's enough light spilling out from the house that Kim can see the gleaming whites of his eyes.

Surprise flashes across his face. Kim braces herself for a bullet, but before he can even yell, two gloved hands wrap around his forehead. There's a spark of green energy and his eyes roll back; Shego helps him sit against the wall, rifle cradled in his lap.

Kim swallows against her dry throat. "You could've warned me."

"I did."

"'Don't freak out' isn't a warning."

Shego scoffs. "Now you just sound ungrateful."

She takes up her previous position, gingerly stepping over the unconscious guard. The front door opens. They both press themselves even further against the wall, hardly daring to breathe as the chairs scrape across the ground.

Yet another man strides in, this one without a wrinkle or fleck of mud on his fatigues. He's flanked by the shotgun-wielding hulk and another person they haven't seen yet, very much out of place with his twisted spectacles and coppery hair. His hand is cemented to the pistol at his hip – his gait jerky and stiff, always looking over his shoulder.

"Check out the white guy," Kim mutters. "He looks like he's playing dress-up."

Shego shushes her, tilting her head. The new men and the ones at the table exchange a couple of words before the briefcase is hefted onto the table proper. Neat-Uniform gestures, and Hulk pops the fasteners to open it.

Kim catches but a glimpse of a large blue tablet inside. Fire-Head looks hungrily at it, almost rubbing his hands together.

Shego frowns. "Something isn't right."

"What is it?"

Her eyes dart around the room. "Call it a criminal's intuition. I thought the people hated the government, so why are they handing over their prize? They gotta know how much the blueprints are worth. It makes no sense."

Kim chews on her lip. "Maybe they're being coerced?"

"Probably… but how did the army even get tipped off in the first place? Are these guys even the army, or some jokers in a uniform?"

Neat-Uniform nods, and Hulk closes the briefcase. The men around the table mill anxiously, watching the newcomers like hawks, muttering back in forth as the case sits in purgatory.

"They're asking about payment," Shego whispers.

Kim scowls. "So they arranged this? They weren't even going to go through with their ransom? What happened to honor amongst thieves?"

"That only applies to thieves like me."

Their conversation devolves into a squabble. Despite being outclassed, the villagers outnumber and outgun the soldiers – their confidence turns into arrogance, brings them up from their seats, slams their fists down on the table. A chorus of the same words over and over again, in Spanish so plain even Kim can understand.

_Give us our money._

"Kim," Shego murmurs, "we need to do something  _now_. This is getting nasty."

"Like what? I can't just climb through the window."

Shego rummages through her backpack, rolling two smoke-bombs between her fingers. "Can your suit still do the invisibility thing?"

"For a little bit, yeah."

"Okay, here's what's gonna happen." It's strange taking orders from someone, but at the same time… kinda refreshing. "Once I throw these, you sneak in there and grab it. It'll be  _chaos_ , so you need to get in and out as quick as possible."

"What about after? We can't outrun a truck."

Shego's eyes drift over to the side. "You let me worry about that. All you need to focus on is getting the briefcase."

The villager closest to their window gets up, his chair clattering behind him. He's mid-expletive, one finger raised threateningly, when Fire-Head whips his pistol out of its holder and shoots him through the throat. Kim chokes down a gasp as blood spews from the back of his neck and out the window, warm over one side of her face.

The room explodes into gunfire. Kim and Shego duck down to escape stray bullets, concrete shuddering with each impact.

"What's going on?" Kim hisses, jerking back as a bullet whizzes past her nose. She spits pink, coppery saliva.

Shego's eyes are dark and serious as she glances up. "Dunno… maybe they got impatient? It's the best distraction we're gonna get."

"Distraction?" Kim blanches. "Shego, someone  _died_."

"And if you don't go now, he'll have died for fuck-all." Shego chucks the smoke-bombs through the window, and almost immediately the room fills with a thick, grey haze. "Go!"

Kim leaps through the open window and triggers the invisibility on her suit. She steps in blood and nearly slips, smearing itself across the floor like by magic. It's still warm.

The door opens, a hazy shaft of light pouring in from the lamp outside, and more voices enter the cacophony. Smoke swirls  _through_  her, cutting it with a transparent knife. Her hip bumps the table, and she skates alongside it with her hands open. Kim's fingers touch metal and she grins. "Yes!"

A bullet bounces off her shoulder, nanofiber flashing as it spreads out the kinetic impact. She grimaces, the suit whining as its healing factors kick in, and ducks under the table to avoid more. Footsteps sound all around her like an invisible earthquake.

"Shego, how the hell am I gonna get out? I can't see anything!"

"Little busy! You're a hero, aren't you? Use that hero-brain of yours."

Kim attempts to move forward, but multiple pairs of legs cage her in. She clutches the briefcase close to her chest and closes her eyes, filtering through at least seven half-formed escape plans in a few seconds. Can't go the way she came, can't break through in case she gets grabbed, too risky to stand up properly or else she'll get shot…

She grits her teeth. "You are  _so_  dead when we get out of here."

A cry of pain sounds directly above her, followed by a body slumping onto the table. Blood drips over the side and down along her neck. She just… she needs… she just needs some fucking  _space_.

As if listening, the suit's whine picks up to a hiss. A humming blue kinetic field explodes outwards and knocks the table – and surrounding bodies – into the air. Kim takes the break and sprints blindly towards the far side where she'd seen a window without any guards. She makes the running leap out and hits the ground hard, whipping around to try and find her ally.

"Shego!"

"Almost done, just—"

A blow between the shoulders cuts off Shego's next words. Kim goes tumbling into the dirt, the briefcase skidding out and away. Her invisibility vanishes with a surge of light. She turns on her back, instinctively bringing up her feet, kicking the barrel of the rifle aimed at her newly-emerged form. It goes off and her ear rings so loud she can barely hear her own thoughts.

One of the soldiers bares his teeth at her. He's got a bullet-hole oozing red from his side, but he still tries to bring his gun back around for another shot. Kim grabs the body of it and crushes his fingers, forcing him to drop it; she flings it away and bounces to her feet, flooring him with a side-kick straight to his wound. When he tries to get back up, she stomps on his crotch until he goes limp.

"Sorry," she winces. Smoke curls around her ankles from where it's leaked out of the building. She turns to grab the case, only to nearly butt heads with Hulk as he also reaches for it.

He startles, eyes raking up and down her body. She smiles. "I think that's mine, actually."

Kim lets off a vicious roundhouse straight to the side of his neck. It strikes true, his flesh ripples and bends with the force, and then… nothing. He shrugs the blow and grabs her ankle, flinging her into the side of the building. Kim cracks her head on the concrete and sees stars.

"—m! Kim! Get up!"

Kim opens her eyes, blinking slow. "Wuh? What happened?"

"You tell me! I just saw our guys running off with the blueprints!"

"Wh—ah, shit." She pats herself, gingerly touching the back of her head and the slow rivulets of blood that mat her hair. "What now?"

Shego skids to a stop in front of her on a filthy dirt-bike, eyes blazing. "Now we go catch these fuckers."

Kim grins and jumps onto the back; the second she wraps her arms around Shego's waist, the other woman guns it, exploding out of the camp with a roar. Mud flies under their tires as they scream through the woken village. "Where are they?"

Shego points to a plume of dust in the distance. "I lost sight of them when I got you. Hold on."

They take turns so tight Kim is convinced they're going to fall right off – Shego handles the bike with an expertise that's, quite frankly, impressive. Not like Kim's going to tell her that.

(Or how she notices her also impressive abdominals tense and flex into every turn under Kim's hands. Not that either. Nope.)

"There!" The same truck they saw earlier disappears into the foliage at the far side of the village. Shego ducks down and urges the bike faster, the engine snarling underneath them.

Kim hits the button on her Kimmunicator.

"Kim, what's—what happened? Is that blood?"

"No time," she says, lifting her wrist over Shego's shoulder. "We need you to find out where they're going."

"Do you have the files?"

"Obviously not, Nerdlinger," Shego snaps. "But if you get on this, we might."

Wade's fingers fly over the keys. Kim presses her face into Shego's shoulder to avoid the whipping branches, her braid tickling her cheek. The only light in the thick foliage comes from the single grimy headlight on the bike and the disappearing bumper ahead of them. Shouting erupts from the bed of the truck, turned indistinct over the scream of their engines.

The  _crack-crack_  of automatic gunfire whistles by. Shego doesn't even flinch, weaving in and out of the hail. Bullets hit the ground and spray mud, never quite making purchase.

"Found it!" A small, rotating map of the village pops up on Kim's watch. "They're heading to a small airstrip a few miles out."

"Fuck," Shego snarls. "If they get in the air, we're never getting those prints back."

"Can we catch them?" Another round of gunfire; Kim stretches her hand out, the blue forcefield netting bullets and casting them aside.

"There's a path up ahead, Shego," Wade says, "take it."

Shego doesn't argue, wrenching the bike off the dusty main road and onto the side-track. Kim's still slightly-battered ribs groan unhappily.

"They've probably got the plane running," Wade types in a few things. A satellite image of the airstrip replaces the map of the village. "You won't have much time. What's the plan?"

Kim shrugs. "Ground it? Board it?"

"Figure it out when we get there," Shego grunts, hitting a large bump and sending them airborne for a few moments. "Just remember that 'grounding' is usually a euphemism for 'exploding', and people tend to die."

"Not an option," Kim says firmly. "Enough people have already died on this mission."

"Yeah, like two."

"More than zero, Shego."

She doesn't respond, deftly navigating them through the narrow track. They burst out of the jungle and into a wide-open field, where a battered double-engine plane is starting to turn around onto the runway. The truck they'd been chasing screams to a halt, the occupants clambering inside as the propeller starts up.

"Gun it!" Kim yells into Shego's ear, and the bike shrieks in response. Kim nearly goes tumbling off the back as Shego races them forward even as the plane starts to move.

"Kim," Wade calls, "you're not going to make it!"

Shego grits her teeth. "Watch me."

She pulls an extremely sharp pivot, dirt and grass flying under her wheels, and starts to gain ground. The plane races down the strip with them alongside; one of the soldiers notices and lets out a yell, followed by another barrage of gunfire. Kim and Shego duck down, the bullets glancing harmlessly off her kinetic shell.

They're side-by-side now, a third of the runway eaten up. Kim straightens and aims her right hand, gulping a deep, steadying breath before she lets her grappling hook fly. It streaks from her wrist and embeds itself in the roof of the plane through the open doors of the hold.

"Got it!" she tries to pull back, but there's too much forward momentum. The plane begins to lift, yanking Kim right off the bike.

Shego's hand clamps around her belt. Kim strains, suspended in the air, the wire unspooling from her wrist with a soft mechanical whirr. The guards in the plane try to yank the hook out, and with a  _click_  it reaches the maximum length and holds. Shego lurches on her bike, the plane shuddering as it struggles to gain altitude.

Kim grips the wire with her other hand. "Shego, hang on!"

She hits the retract button; Kim careens into the hold, her legs curled up, enough momentum that she slams into Hulk with her heels and sends him staggering backwards out of the plane. It rocks as he falls the fifteen feet to the ground.

Shego's grip slips from her belt and she hits the bottom of the hold, sliding out and vanishing.

"Shego!"

One black-gloved hand clings onto the edge of the door. "I'll manage. Get the prints!"

Their prize is strapped down onto a chair. Kim lunges for it, but a guard she hasn't seen before puts his body between her and the case. He spits something unflattering in Spanish, bringing his pistol up to shoot.

"We're in a plane, dude!" Kim grabs his wrists to wrestle it away. "That is a  _ferociously_  bad idea!"

The gun goes off and tears a penny-sized hole in the ceiling. Kim wrenches his hands to the side and delivers one, two, three punches right to his nose. Blood spews down his front, splattering her, adding to the mess smeared over her face. She grimaces.

Neat-Uniform climbs out of the co-pilot's seat, his expression a thundercloud. Kim balls her fists and readies for another barrage of attacks – unneeded, as Shego yanks herself inside and sweeps his legs out from under him. When he cries out, she grabs his face and slams it into the floor, leaving the barest dent in the metal. His flailing muscles instantly go slack as a small trickle of blood begins to collect by his forehead.

"Secure these losers," Shego grunts, "I'll deal with the plane."

She forces her way inside; Kim rolls the two men over and binds their hands behind their back with duct-tape. There's shouting, then screaming, a  _whap_  of a fist against flesh, and then silence. Fire-Head's body hits the floor behind Shego's new seat – the plane shudders with its change of pilots, but doesn't fall out of the sky.

"Wade," Kim says, "I need an ID on these guys."

She brings her Kimmunicator close to the first goon's face. Though badly bloodied, the Kimmunicator still diligently scans his features.

"No dice," he says. "Try the next one."

She rolls Neat-Uniform over, his eyes hazy and obviously concussed. Her watch chimes.

"Roberto Sanchez," Wade informs her, "thirty-five, native of Colombia. Wanted there for drug trafficking, gang affiliation, human trafficking and racketeering. Dishonorable discharge from the National Army of Colombia."

Shego scoffs. "A real, upstanding citizen."

"Like you can talk," Wade responds, actively recoiling as soon as he says it. "… please don't hurt me."

Shego just chuckles. "I never sold women or drugs. I'd say I've got a moral leg up on this fucker."

Kim rolls her eyes. "A moral tippy-toe, maybe."

Fire-Head groans from behind Shego. A large, swollen bump protrudes from the top of his skull, his glasses crooked. "What about this  _gringo_? The one that looks like your twin?"

Kim rolls her eyes, shuffling around to his prone body. "Just because we both have red hair—"

Several alarms go off only a fraction of a second before a projectile slams into the side of the plane. Tendrils of flame lick hungrily into the hold; the aircraft rocks like a ship on a choppy sea, nearly tipping over mid-air. Kim lurches sideways, striking her ribs on the lip of the seat. The wind sucks the unconscious guard out of the gaping hole in the fuselage like plucked by an invisible hand.

Shego wrenches the aircraft steady again, sending everyone skidding in the other direction. Sanchez rolls over, dangling precariously close to the open air. Kim staggers back, winded – her heel misses the lip of the hold. There's a moment of perfect, hanging stillness before she wobbles, overbalances, and topples out into the sky.

Kim hits the wing with her midsection and skids along the body. Her toes scrabble for purchase, her hands raking down its side as she's dragged; she bleeds under her suit as the rivets and corners shred her fingers on the way across.

As the vehicle retreats from her, the whole world slows and sharpens to the edge of a crystalline knife. Kim takes in the condensation droplets on the window, the dull early-morning glow of the plane's body, and the massive, smouldering hole torn into its side. She clenches her fist to release her grapple-hook, but the mechanism only whirrs unhappily.

_Of course._

"Kim!" Shego barks, tinny and anxious through the earpiece. Kim reaches out to her shadow in the cockpit, her hands unfurling, grasping for the only person that could—

Her right hand shreds through the plane's side like aluminum foil. Kim slows with a scream of rending metal, exposing the skeleton of the tail.

"Kim!" Shego sounds almost… scared. "Fuck—are you—did you get-?"

"Almost." Her eyes water in the wind and smoke, shoulder howling. She can hear the alarms shrieking through Shego's earpiece, her head weaving around as she tries to silence them. "I'm on the tail."

"On the—" Shego's eyes dart to the rearview mirror, "holy  _fuck_ , Possible."

"I don't really know what's going on," Kim admits, squinting. Wind wicks away her tears before they start to hurt.

"Okay, uh… can you hold on?"

"I think so?" Kim flexes her fingers a little, the metal groaning in her grip. Her fist doesn't budge.

"Let me just—son of a bitch!" Shego's figure jerks around, half-out of her seat. Two more bodies go tumbling out of the plane, one falling like a stone and the other trying hard to keep up. "Looks like it's just you and me, Princess."

"Isn't it always?"

Shego chuckles. "That's for damn sure."

She retreats to the ruined hold, her figure rummaging around. Kim gulps as her hand sinks another few inches. "Are you sure you shouldn't be, like, flying this thing?"

"I put it on autopilot," Shego says. One black-gloved hand reaches out of the aircraft, fingers melting through the side. "It's going down one way or another."

Shego carefully swings her body out, pushing her hands through the chassis much like Kim did. Flickers of green light swirl around her hands as she makes her own holds. The metal briefcase, tied to her back with the climbing rope, glints with cresting sun.

She gets most of the way across when the plane shudders and begins to list. Shego grits her teeth, taking bigger, riskier strides, nearly losing her grip as she transitions to the tail. Blood streams down Kim's wrist, welling between her fingers and getting into her eyes.

"Take my hand," Shego stretches out as far as she dares.

Kim reaches with her free arm, but misses. Her other hand drags through the tail until she catches on a steel support.

Shego inches across, putting her feet into the ruined, jagged edges that Kim tore open. The plane tilts up, its tail dragging.

She reaches over again, straining as far as she can, leaning so far that the plane begins to tip. Kim puts all her strength into her right arm and  _pulls_  – their fingers brush and then connect, Shego's grip clamping onto her wrist like a vice just as the aircraft bucks and they're both wrenched off the tail and into the sky.

They spiral together, instinctively spreading out to slow their descent. Shego doesn't let go, her fingers a solid, reassuring weight.

"Now what?" Shego yells, her braid streaming behind her.

"You didn't get the parachute from the plane?"

"That fucker snuck out and took it," she spits. "I didn't notice, too busy trying to stay in the sky."

Below them, a white chute drifts lazily towards the ground. Two tiny figures hang precariously from the harness.

Kim groans. "Great. No jet-pack, no parachute, and probably not very long until we go splat."

"What about your suit? Can't you fly, or something?"

"Hover, but…" Kim glances to the sun. "I don't think it'll be able to support both of us."

"Maybe it can slow our fall so we just break all our bones instead of dying."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Maybe for you."

Above them, smoke leaves a great, greasy gouge in the sky, almost the same colour as the brooding clouds. The plane pitches downward and spirals towards the jungle, nearly completely consumed by flames.

_That'll be us if I don't think of something._

Kim closes her eyes. What do they have? Not much. A jump-jet that isn't strong enough, no parachute, and no other gadgets. They can't even aim for a body of water in hopes of breaking their fall. If Kim was alone, she might be able to survive, but with Shego…

Kim eyes her. "What  _is_  your plasma, exactly?"

"Uh… plasma?"

"I'm serious, Shego."

"So am I! I don't know much about the science-y shit, other than it's real hot and I can kinda make it change shape. Sort of."

First-year physics streams through Kim's head, mashing together what she's learned and what she knows from living under the same roof as a rocket-scientist and two amateur geniuses. Plasma is… just a bunch of ionized electrons. When a lot of them get together really rapidly, all sorts of crazy shit can happen – put that under voluntary control, and even  _crazier_  shit can happen. But will any of that crazy shit help them?

She groans. If only she paid more attention in lecture.

Kim thinks back to the concussive blast Shego created in Hong Kong. "Can you make it come out of your feet, instead of your hands?"

Shego arches a brow. "I'm not Iron Man, Kim."

"I know, I know, but… can you?"

"I've never tried," Shego admits, "but that doesn't mean no."

Kim nods. "Then we'll do it."

She pulls Shego close, hooking an arm around her neck. They press together, plummeting feet-first, their suits slipping and sliding. Kim wiggles until she's at Shego's back, the case pushing awkwardly into her stomach; her arms loop under Shego's, just under her breasts.

"When I say go, I want you to put all your energy into making plasma beams. Go nuts. Pretend you're blasting holes through Drakken's chest or something."

Shego turns her head, her temple brushing Kim's cheek. "Is this even gonna work?"

"I have no idea, Shego. But it's better than the alternative."

Details are starting to materialize on the ground. From so high up, Kim can see from one end of the island to the other – so vast, and yet so tiny. She tightens her grip on her own wrist, her bleeding right hand clamped tight around her left. Her bones creak.

Shego's pulse throbs at Kim's jaw. The other woman stretches her legs out like she's about to jump. "I won't even be mad if it doesn't work, I'll just be dead."

The jungle looms underneath them, a dark, shifting mass. Kim swallows. "Shego, if we don't…"

"Save it, Possible. We ain't dead yet."

Kim nods and presses her temple hard against Shego's ear. She gives it a few more seconds of freefall, the teeth of the wind at her throat. She's used to falling from so high the air turns an icicle in her chest, her breath leaving her laughing mouth to twine with the clouds she's touched. Falling through the ceiling of the world is such a sacred experience, being anxious almost feels… blasphemous.

"Now!" she says, pushing her hips forward to activate her belt. Her thrusters kick in with a loud hum, sputtering under the weight as they continue to fall.

Shego grits her teeth and flexes her feet, a halo of green energy gathering around them. The ground gets closer and the light gets brighter, brighter; a powerful gout of green-black flame erupts from Shego's heels. They stutter in mid-air.

"Stronger!" Kim urges, holding Shego closer.

"I'm fucking trying!" Shego snarls back, digging her nails into Kim's forearms. They can't be more than a few hundred feet off the ground.

With a guttural scream, the fire turns into twin beams of brilliant green light. The air around them thrums with static electricity, so thick it's almost like she's stepping down on a tangible surface. Shego's powerful thighs tense under the sudden resistance.

Kim clings even tighter. Her belt chimes its warning as they rapidly approach the canopy, and quits just above it. She uses its last gasp to change their direction of travel, diagonally instead of straight down.

Shego's power burns away the leaves in one great hole as they careen through the new opening. They catch branches on the way down, getting tangled in vines that crumble away under Shego's plasmic sword. Kim loses her grip as they hit the ground, Shego's legs taking the brunt of the impact – she rolls over and over, skidding through the foliage before coming to rest in a groaning heap.

Kim keeps her eyes shut for a long time. She goes through a mental catalogue of what hurts (everything) and what's broken (nothing… hopefully), her mouth just a little too metallic to only be spit. She clenches her fists, wiggles her feet, swivels her neck on the forest floor. Nothing more than she'd expect after falling out of the sky. She probably would've broken both legs if she hit first, but thankfully Shego—

Kim's eyes pop open. She stiffly props herself up on her elbows – there's an actual track in the dirt, starting sixty feet away and ending underneath her. Another, similar one streaks off in another direction, deeper than hers.

She staggers to her feet, half-limping, half-jogging. "Shego?" she calls out, but gets no answer.

She follows it, ducking under broken branches, following the smell of burnt biomass. Bits and pieces of wood still smoulder, one tree with four deep, blackened gouges off to her right. This jungle is too damp to go up in flames, but just barely.

Kim finds Shego's crumpled body snared in a tangle of vines. She rushes to her side, yanking them away and cupping her face in her hands. "Shego?" she says again, softer this time. "Come on, wake up."

Shego's brow furrows. Kim smooths away hair that escaped her braid, the strands soaked in mud and sweat. "That's right. You're okay."

"If you're here," Shego croaks, "I'm either in Hell, or still alive somehow."

Kim grins. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"You've been spending too much time with me, Pumpkin." Shego cracks her eyes open. "We really made it?"

"We really did."

Shego's body starts to shake; a laugh escapes like it was ripped from her chest. She covers her mouth to smother any more, but they spill from between her fingers. Kim watches in amazement as Shego's eyes crinkle and her lips curve, strikingly beautiful despite the sweat and grime caked onto her face. "Jesus  _fucking_  Christ, Kim! What a rush! Only you would fall out of a plane and not die."

"You fell out too," Kim reminds her, beaming.

"That's incorrect. I voluntarily left the aircraft to save your sorry ass."

"And I appreciate it very much."

"You better."

Shego slowly sits up, hair a wild, tangled mane. She winces. "God, everything hurts."

Kim sits next to her. "Welcome to the club."

She brushes hair from her eyes, only to smear blood across her forehead. Kim opens her right hand, a deep gash running where her fingers meet her palm. Shego leans towards her.

"So… we gonna talk about the fact that you tore open a plane with your bare hand?"

Kim wiggles her fingers. "I think you did something when you fixed it."

"Seems that way, don't it?"

It brings more questions than answers. "Does this mean I have superpowers now?"

Shego scratches her eyebrow. "You certainly have  _something_."

Now swallowed by the clouds, barely any sunlight pierces through the canopy. They sit in semi-darkness, surrounded by the smouldering ruin of their re-entry, Shego's bare shins giving off a near-imperceptible glow. Jade blood rolls in small rivulets down her calves.

Kim sighs. "Now what?"

Shego lies back down with a grunt. "In ten minutes, we get up and leave. We probably alerted the entire island with that display."

"But before then?"

"We take a break. I feel like I've gone through a blender."

Kim spreads out next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Shego's body heat pierces through both of their suits and lends a drowsy warmth to half of Kim's aching form. "I'm good with that."


	5. cluster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cluster (n.): a gathering of small objects in space. obstacles to overcome.

Somewhere in America, an underground laboratory burns with a pale green glow.

“What do you mean they’re pulling funding? We need that research station!”

No-Zone cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, carefully calibrating her new power system with the bobbing comet shard.

“I know, Melissa,” the man on the line says, “trust me. But you know how politicians are.”

She clicks her tongue. “Too greedy and short-sighted to remember they’re living on the world we’re trying to save.”

He sighs. “You know the answer to that, too.”

No-Zone rakes her free hand through her hair, covered in a fine layer of grease. “Did they say why?” She grimaces as her curls mat together.

“Something about the state budget being needed in the education system.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s rich. Do you know how much I earned as a TA when I was studying for my second PhD?”

“You never let me forget. Nine thousand—"

“Nine-thousand dollars! That’s it! For having _just_ as many qualifications – and doing more work – than the person actually teaching the course!”

“It’s highway robbery, for sure.”

She gingerly ties the alien focus to the main circuit, feeding the shard’s power directly into her appliances. Her main computer hums for a moment before re-establishing.

“Then who’s holding the gun? All you old fogeys who won’t give up your tenures?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it. This old fogey’s tenure could get you an interview with the Dean – rumour has it the Environmental Science head is retiring this year.”

No-Zone shakes her head, trading the phone to her free hand. “You know me, Norbert. I want to _do_ , not teach.”

Norbert chuckles. “We _are_ allowed to conduct our research at the same time. With funding.”

“Great. What’s the point when I don’t have any data, all because some ancient politician who listens to Fox News thinks global warming is a myth? They’ll just keep closing our research stations until they run out of yachts to buy.”

A heavy sigh from the other line. “Look, Mel, it’s not as bad as you—"

“Not as bad as— do you hear yourself? Species are dying, glaciers are vanishing, and we’re all either going to drown or starve to death. I’d rather be out there _doing_ something about it instead of lying to a bunch of undergrads that things might turn out okay.”

“Or you could tell them the truth.”

No-Zone laughs, almost drowned out by the drone of her focus. “You always did have a bit of a sadistic streak.”

“Call it pragmatism. What are you working on now that’s so important you’ll turn down the promise of actual funding?”

“Who says I’m working on anything?”

“I can hear you tinkering away, and besides, I know you. Is that some sort of machine?”

No-Zone turns a dial, the drone turning into a low hum. Her instruments dim, their lights washing over her in fractured patterns. “Maybe.”

“What is it for?”

“Something.”

He sighs. “Melissa…”

“Look, Norbert,” she scrolls through the numerical values her sensors spit out, tweaking and altering the beam, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It would be easier. But I can’t sit on my hands and wait for the world to end.”

Her motion-sensor bleeps half a second before someone clears their throat behind her. She jumps, juggling her phone in both hands before it hits the ground and skitters away underneath her desk. No-Zone swears, tugging her mask down over her face from where she’d pushed it up.

“Who, uh, who are you? Why are you in my evil lair?”

The person – a man, grey around the temples – adjusts the clipboard in his hands. “Routine check-in, Miss… No-Zone. It’s for all first-time lair owners. Hench Co. wants to make sure its customers get all the support they need to fulfill their evil ambitions.”

“Oh! Uh,” she clears her throat, “it’s great. A little drafty, but I can just wear a sweater.” No-Zone glances down – she’s wearing her frayed cat sweatshirt that her mother stitched a few years ago and purple slippers.

“Clearly.” His red suit looks like a gaudy Christmas decoration in the shifting light. “I’d warn you against using your personal phone here, Miss. It could be traced back to this location.”

“Who’d go through that trouble?”

“You haven’t enacted any evil plan yet, so probably no one. But that’s liable to change. You have the usual culprits; the CIA, the FBI, the NSA… and then you have the others.”

No-Zone crawls under the desk to retrieve her phone. “Others?” She winces and lowers her voice, suddenly grateful for her phone’s awful reception.

“Global Justice and Kim Possible.” There’s the slightest tremor in his tone when he says her name. No-Zone frowns.

“What, that kid who’s on the news sometimes?”

His heels tap quietly on the stone floor. “That _kid_ has a 100% success rate when it comes to either destroying or capturing evil dwellings. Hench Co has undoubtedly lost millions because of Possible’s heroics. You’d do well to lay low and avoid catching her interest.”

No-Zone puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, Norbert. I’ll have to call you back.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine. My, uh, my assistant just startled me, so I dropped my phone.”

“You have an assistant now? I thought you were stretched for funds?”

“He’s… an intern. Unpaid. I’lltelllyouaboutitlaterbye!”

She jabs the _end call_ button before he can say anything else. No-Zone lets out a shaky breath.

The hench tilts his head to the far wall. “You have a landline. I’d strongly recommend using that in the future – triple encrypted.”

“Sure,” she says skeptically, “if you insist.”

“I do.”

He begins a slow pace about the perimeter, checking off boxes as he goes. No-Zone keeps a wary eye on him as he gravitates closer to the crystal. For a moment he just stands captive in its glow, his goggles gleaming on his forehead.

“You can ask me what it is,” she adjusts the power setting. It dulls a little.

“I’m under strict orders not to,” he says, but she can tell how he hungers for it.

No-Zone comes around to stand by his left shoulder. “I thought super-villains loved gloating to people? Or is that superheroes?”

“Both,” the hench says, “but mostly villains. It’s the way things have always been done - they love it when a good evil plan comes together.”

“I’m not one for tradition.” She passes her hand through the light, warm like standing in the sun. “Or bragging, to be honest. I’ll wait until I’ve done what I set out to do.”

He finally looks away from the bobbing shard. “And what’s that?”

“Getting this stupid, broken world to listen.”

The light surges as if in agreement, forcing them to look away. Her data spikes, alarms blaring, but settles a moment after. No-Zone snatches up the new series of numbers.

“Oh…” she murmurs, “how interesting…”

“What?” The hench asks, but she’s already wandered away, the long strip of paper trailing between her feet. He shakes his head.

Villains. 

* * *

 

“Ow, fuck!”

“I’m sorry!”

Shego bares her teeth. “Don’t say you’re sorry, just stop moving it!”

“Then _you_ need to stop squirming around. Can you wiggle your toes?”

She does.

“That’s good.” Kim’s slender fingers cradle her heel. “Is it broken?”

“How the hell should I know? It just hurts!”

“Can you put weight on it?”

Shego gingerly puts her foot down before recoiling. “Not really.”

Kim sucks her lip into her mouth. “I don’t know if I can carry you through this terrain.”

“I’m not a cripple yet, Kimmie. Just find me some vines or something. Maybe a walking stick.”

As Kim darts through the foliage, Shego drags herself closer to her point of re-entry. Broken, smouldering branches litter the ground, and she sizes a few up against her shin. Her flaming hands warp them into the proper shape around her foot.

Overhead, the canopy still sputters. Shego thinks she hears the _whoop whoop_ of a helicopter in the distance.

Kim comes crashing back into the clearing, vines slung around her shoulders. Shego reaches for them, but Kim bats her hands away.

“Let me,” she insists, gently tugging Shego’s foot into her lap. Slowly, methodically, she begins lashing the wood to her leg. “You’re the one who got hurt with my crazy plan.”

For once in her life, Shego doesn’t argue, simply leaning back on her hands. “A twisted ankle is better than dead. It’ll heal in a few days.”

“Still.”

Around them, the jungle slowly returns to life. Birds call from all directions and small mammals scuttle about in the trees. A few feet away, a massive, marching colony of ants brings food back to their hill.

“Heard anything from Nerdlinger?”

Kim brings up her wrist for Shego to see, sputtering static. “Must’ve busted it in the fall.”

“Great. Guess we’re on our own.”

Kim tightens a small branch underneath Shego’s heel. A shiver passes through her as Kim’s nails lightly scratch her skin; Shego swallows down the strange, tense knot in her throat.

“Then we better get moving.”

Shego rolls to her knees, balancing on one foot as she slowly rises. She ignores Kim’s outstretched hand and leans cautiously on her branch. The splint Kim made is crude but functional.

She tries to put her foot down and hisses.

“We already established that was a bad idea,” Kim says from somewhere behind her. There’s a hand on her lower back that skates around to her hip, Kim’s side wedged hard against hers as she ducks under Shego’s unoccupied arm.

Shego blinks, letting her weight rest across Kim’s shoulders for a moment before remembering herself. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, helping you?” Kim adjusts the briefcase she strapped to her own back.

“I don’t need your help,” Shego pulls away, taking a step forward. It’s more of a hop.

Kim lets her forage a few meters that way, trailing just behind. “You sure about that?”

“Yup.” Her stick sinks through the mud. It swells up between her exposed toes, sucking at her sole and soothing the tender, stinging flesh there.

Shego makes it another dozen meters before her knee buckles. She catches herself on a tree-trunk, thigh trembling, spine soaked in sweat. Kim’s eyes burn into the base of her neck - the distant rumble of the helicopter gets louder still.

She clenches her jaw before wordlessly extending her free arm. Kim slips underneath like she never left.

Together, they make their way through the jungle. They stick to the deeply shaded areas, flitting in and out of the foliage. After a few missteps they manage to settle into a quick, lumbering rhythm – their height difference makes it more of a trial than trial-and-error lets on.

“We’d be number one in a three-legged race,” Kim grins. Her eyes shine despite the mud smeared across her like face paint.

Shego curls her lip. “Drakken always made me be his partner in the annual _Family Hench Hop._ The man has two left feet – if he’s lucky.”

“So,” Kim’s grip tightens on her wrist as they slowly scale an incline, “is being evil like any other job? You’ve got a certain number of hours to fill, management makes you go to corporate parties…”

“I don’t know about _any_ other job,” Shego grunts, dragging herself up with her arms and then extending one to Kim. “I don’t have to deal with the general public, which really, is a perk all on its own.”

“People aren’t that bad.”

“That’s because you’re the living avatar of Little Miss America. Have you even met someone who doesn’t like you yet?” Shego wipes mud out of her eyes. “ _Bon-Bon_ doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, you.”

They reach the top. Shego tosses her braid back as Kim dutifully takes up position, her palm curiously hot against Shego’s skin.

“I don’t count either,” Shego says. “We hate each other on principle.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Shego nearly stumbles. “You… don’t?”

“Nah.” Kim’s gaze stays resolutely forward. “Not really. I think you’re a sarcastic, stubborn, self-serving narcissist, but…  I never did, except maybe for a bit after… the Lil’ Diablo incident.”

“Yeah, that was…”

“Awful,” Kim sighs. “But I guess it was the wake-up call I needed. And once I realized that I nearly killed you, I wasn’t even mad anymore. Just guilty.”

Shego pinches Kim’s cheek with the arm wrapped around her shoulder. “You were worried about a sarcastic, stubborn, self-serving narcissist like me? You _do_ care!”

“You almost died!”

“Kinda comes with the job description. Steal stuff, fight heroes, dance with death. I can practically do _el mambo_ by now.”

“Yeah—but— _I_ nearly killed you!”

“Ah. This sounds like a _you_ problem, not a _me_ problem.”

Kim scoffs and lengthens her stride  – Shego misses her next step and puts all her weight on her bad ankle. She staggers, the arm around Kim’s neck stiffening, strong-arming them both to the ground.

Kim eats mud before Shego, the older woman landing half on top of her. They lie unmoving as the groan of another helicopter turns out to be a peal of thunder.

“Shego,” Kim asks, most of her still submerged in sludge, “do you hate me?”

Shego picks her head up from her forearm. “What?”

“Do you hate me? You said we hate each other on principle. Is that true?”

“I…” Shego’s skin prickles. “I mean… you _are_ a hero.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it?”

Kim slowly gathers herself onto her knees. Shego breathes the wet air of the jungle until it sits like a physical weight in her chest. “I guess. Sorry I asked.”

She’s quiet after that. They get up and brush off the worst of the mud, making their slow, beleaguered way across the island. That singular growl of thunder turns into a chorus, the clouds gathering darker still. It’s hard to tell if it’s morning or night.

Shego feels the static crawl along the back of her neck like a spider. Her fingers slip on her slimy walking stick, the black of her suit turned brown. Kim’s blue stripes faded to slate without the sun. Every part of her hurts, misaligned, itching with anxious energy from the coming storm.

They crest up and over the ravine, condensation clinging heavy like another skin. Thunder snarls directly overhead – a great flash lights up the clouds for a second before dissipating. The charged ions rain over Shego’s body.

The familiar ring of cliffs they passed through towers in the distance. Between them and salvation is the little village they stole from, all their lights on and generators roaring.

“I don’t think we can go around.” Kim still has blood on her cheek. Shego licks wetness off her lips and sighs.

“I know. But we can’t go through.”

Kim checks her Kimmunicator again, hoping some benevolent god overheard their plight and snapped their fingers. No luck.

“Maybe if we stay on the edges? They can’t be watching the _whole_ perimeter.”

The closer, more muted growl of engines float up from the village. Dirt-bikes skid off into the distance, weapons strapped over their owners’ backs.

“That seems like a lot to gamble on.”

Kim shrugs, gingerly moving them to the edge of the slope. “If we try and bushwack, do you really think we’re gonna get anywhere in this jungle? And even worse, then we’ll be stuck, and they can pick us off like ducks.”

She has a point. This whole section of forest is nothing but tangled vines and leaning trees. Shego tries to shake off the gnawing unease in her gut, but it won’t budge.

Just as Kim steps down, Shego grabs her shoulder with the hand looped around her neck. “Kim, wait.”

“What?”

“I want you to promise you’ll give up the briefcase if we get caught.”

Kim frowns. “But… we won’t.”

“Yeah, but _if_ we do. These people are dangerous.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious, _mom_.”

Shego’s grip tightens – Kim winces. “Wow, you’re serious.”

“I’m serious because I know your stupid, altruistic ass is gonna do something reckless if you get the chance. Take it from me. Some battles just aren’t worth it.”

Kim eyes her curiously. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“You haven’t leveled up enough to unlock the tragic backstory. For now, I just want you to promise.”

The hero shifts on her feet. It’s the same movement Hego did whenever Shego made him do something he didn’t like. “But we can’t go back empty-handed.”

“Really? Says who?”

“Me, Shego,” Kim huffs. “ _We_ made a promise to _him_ that we’d get his notes back. You’re rich, right? Can’t you bargain with them _if_ they find us?”

“If you think I’m gonna spend my hard-earned millions on a bunch of criminals so you can play white knight, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“ _You’re_ a criminal.”

“Yeah, and a very successful one. That’s where the resemblance ends.”

Kim chews on her tongue. Her brows draw in like Shego asked her to steal the Mona Lisa.

“Fine,” she says, albeit begrudgingly. “I promise.”

It doesn’t feel as reassuring as Shego would like. “I’ll give all your stuffed animals to DNAmy if you’re lying.”

They forge downwards – Shego’s bare feet slip in the mud, catching on roots and sharp sticks. The tattered remains of her suit lets the moisture in, and it oozes between the fabric and the backs of her thighs.

They nearly go tumbling down when the ground shifts underneath them. Shego clamps onto a young sapling as Kim tries to find her footing. Small animals and plants alike are swallowed whole by the sluggish mudslide – it actually feels kind of nice against her throbbing ankle.

Kim helps her back onto solid ground, muck up to their shins. It oozes slowly over the path and down into the gorge below.

/”Hey!”/

They turn together. A man in ragged clothing aims a rusted rifle at their chests, shaking and unshaven.

/”S-stay right there!”/ demands the man. His fingers blanch from the death-grip on his weapon. /”I’ll shoot!”/

Shego rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

“What’s he saying?” Kim murmurs, her hands up by her head.

“The usual. Don’t move or he’ll shoot us, et cetera.”

/”Stop talking!”/ The whites of his eyes shine in the half-dark. /”W-who are you?”/

/”Would you believe me if I said we’re just passing through?”/

His lip curls in an attempted sneer, but the fear on his face ruins the effect. Kim shifts; the briefcase on her back glints. His eyes widen.

/”You… you have the--/” He makes a grab for the radio hanging at his belt. Shego points her finger and lets out a single bolt of plasma. It disintegrates; he yelps and immediately opens fire.

Shego yanks Kim to the ground. The man – no, a boy, no older than sixteen – misses by a mile, and Kim sweeps his feet out from under him. Shego’s heated hand melts his gun in half.

“We gotta go,” Kim urges, forcing Shego back to her feet.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

The boy shouts behind them, but they don’t look back.

They dive off the path and through the undergrowth. Shego loses her stick to an overhanging tendril. She leans heavily on Kim instead, falling into perfect sync as they hobble for their life. Branches and vines knot together in a tangle of green that rip their clothing and lick their faces.

They run until they cramp. The rumbling thunder masks their own laboured breathing; Shego isn’t sure if it’s sweat or condensation streaking down her temples.

“I-I think…” Kim pants, pulling them both out into a clearing, “we lost them.”

It’s dark here, shrouded in shade – the back of Shego’s neck tingles like a deer about to be pinned by the panther.

A single glowing eye emerges from the foliage. The storm abates for a second, and in that breath of silence, the distinct sound of tires on dead leaves comes from every direction.

The vehicles surround them in a matter of seconds. They put their hands up again, Shego blowing a loose strand of hair from her face.

“For fuck’s sake.” 

* * *

 

Kim stares at the thin sheet soaked in red, thrown over the man she watched die. It spreads from his forehead like a third, unblinking eye.

The briefcase presses uncomfortably against her back, wedged against the wall, but they tried only half-heartedly to relieve her of it. A broken nose and a black eye dissuaded any further attempts.

Shego scowls, motionless, at a spot on the far wall.

“You can say it,” Kim sighs.

Shego doesn’t move. “Say what.”

“I told you so.”

“I told you before we left on this stupid mission. _You_ just didn’t listen.”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave his priceless research to be sold to a corrupt government?”

“Yes!” A vein throbs in Shego’s temple. “That is _exactly_ what you were supposed to do. Or maybe hand it off to someone who gets paid money to put their neck on the line.”

“I didn’t _trust_ Global Justice for this, Shego.”

“I’m pretty sure they couldn’t do a lot worse than at least six people dying, a plane going up in flames, and one of their operatives breaking their ankle!”

Wispy steam curls out of Shego’s mouth and around her jaw. The static from the storm stands the baby hairs by her temples upright, her hair almost glimmering with electricity. All four guards standing watch glance nervously between themselves.

“Shego…”

“Don’t _Shego_ me, Kim! Admit it, this is a royal fuck-up.”

Kim sets her jaw. “We can still get out of this.”

“Oh yeah? You got a plan?

“I’m... working on it.”

Shego pulls herself to standing. “I swear to God, Possible, if I die in this godforsaken _pit_ because you had to play paragon, I’m going to haunt your family for the rest of their lives.”

“You didn’t _have_ to come!” Kim pivots until they’re facing each other. “You could’ve said no, screw you, and taken your own personal jet back to your mansion! You chose to be here.”

“Horseshit.”

A white-hot tremor runs up Kim’s spine – her fists clench before relaxing. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. We both know that if I said no, your mom would’ve kicked me out and left me to burn alive. And you know what? Maybe that would’ve been better. At least I wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of being buried in a shallow, muddy grave with Pippi Longstocking _!_ ”

Kim doesn’t think about it. She reaches and gives Shego one sharp shove – the other woman staggers back against the wall. But instead of apologizing, Kim takes a step forward. “Fine. You want to have your temper tantrum now? Go ahead. Get it all out, Shego. I’ve been waiting _all day_. Tell me exactly what you think and get it over with so you can stop being such a goddamn child.”

Shego turns dark green, and Kim braces herself for the worst tongue-lashing of her life. Maybe some part of her brain acknowledges she deserves it, keeps her rooted in place mere feet from Shego’s filthy, trembling body.

She isn’t prepared for Shego’s tackle, and it knocks the wind out of her.

“Get off your high horse, Possible!” Shego growls, pressed low. Her fist comes down across Kim’s cheekbone, and it lands with a solid, muddy _thwap_. “If I’m a child, then you’re a toddler. How did you think this was gonna go? Huh? You just sweep in, save the day, and everyone cheers? Says thank-you, and now you’ve got another favour to add to your roster?”

Kim grabs the collar of her suit and launches her across the room. Shego skids along her side and Kim is there near-instantly, one knee pressing hard into her chest, her fist close behind. “I had to do the right thing! It’s not theirs, they stole it!”

“Sometimes, there _is_ no right thing!” Shego grabs the back of her neck and slams their faces together. Kim’s nose bursts into a red geyser, blood splattering over Shego like warpaint. “Wake up, you aren’t a kid anymore!”

/”Hey! Cut it out!”/ Two of the guards finally rush forward. Shego snarls and lets out a magnificent halo of green-black light, billowing from her outstretched hand. It fills the entire room with writhing shadows.

/”Come _any_ closer and your widows will have to fight over your ashes.”/

Kim uses her split attention to straddle her. Her face throbs, hard. “Or maybe I just choose to believe there’s good in everyone! Have you ever tried, Shego? Or do you just go through life expecting the worst out of every person you meet?”

“What’s there to expect when it’s true?”

Shego drives up on her good leg and rolls them. Kim’s blood drips down her neck - she bares her teeth in a red rictus. “You wanna think everyone can be saved? You go right ahead, but don’t drag me into your feel-good bullshit! I know better. I _know_ , and yet, I’m here with you about to get my brains blown out!”

Kim holds her at bay with two hands on her collar. Shego _quivers_ , light snapping at Kim’s fingers.

“You heard the professor,” Kim grunts, “they aren’t bad people! I can still—“

“You don’t _get it_!” Kim looks up into Shego’s face, eyes burning, lips split open into a snarl. Her arms ache from keeping her weight away. “It doesn’t _matter_ what kind of people they are. They’re desperate, and desperate people are the ones who’ll do anything to survive. _Anything_.”

Kim shifts and forces Shego back on her heels – her broken ankle catches, allowing Kim to flip them over again. She pins the older woman by the throat. Prickly, reflexive tears drip down her aching nose. “Who hurt you, Shego?”

“Don’t, Kim.”

“No, I’m serious. Why are you so miserable? You’ve been in worse sitches than this. We stopped the world from ending together! Why do a couple civilians with guns scare you so much?”

Shego struggles, but the light and heat billowing from her body dims like someone pulled the plug. She pulls in an exhausted breath. “I’m not scared. I’m angry, and exasperated, and still in a little bit of disbelief that you can’t see how dire this situation is. The worst part is I’m probably gonna die because I broke my moral code to help a hero who still thinks the world is just black and white.”

Her plasma extinguishes with a soft, defeated hiss.

“No,” she says, softer now, “I think the worst part about all this is that I want to punch you so _bad_ right now, but I can’t even stand up without falling on my face.”

Kim opens her mouth as the door swings open. A man in a dusty plaid shirt and a fluffy beard storms in, a bandana tied tightly around his head. The guards who were anxiously milling around stiffen and snap to attention.

Kim instantly gets up and extends a hand to Shego. The older woman takes it, trying hard to stand tall.

The newcomer looks them over with a critical eye. Kim’s nose drips blood down her chin, a thin trickle. “You are two that killed my men?”

“We didn’t do that,” Kim protests, “that was the soldiers.”

“Then why you have case?”

“Because we stole it,” Shego says. There’s a note of unfamiliar tension in her voice.

The leader blinks. “You don’t deny it?”

“Why bother? You’re not gonna believe anything else.”

One of the guards steps up and delivers a brutal rifle-whip to Shego’s temple. She staggers, but doesn’t fall. “You will show respect!”

A green glow gathers over Shego’s knuckles, barely a wisp of light. “How about he does something worth respecting?”

He cocks his gun back again. Kim roughly shoulders in front of her, catching the stock as it comes down. It cracks under the clench of her fist. “Leave her alone.”

Splinters rain as he yanks it away. The others raise their weapons, muttering.

“Don’t stand in front of me, moron. You’re the one they want.”

Kim shakes her head, jaw set.

The chief draws revolver from his hip, and he spins six shiny bullets in his cartridge. It’s the first time Kim’s ever seen one up close.

“It don’t matter if you killed them or no. You have something that belong to us. Give.”

“It’s not yours. You stole it.”

His smile is thin. “A strange thing to say, little thief.” The barrel lines up with her forehead, well-used and well-loved.

“Kim,” Shego murmurs, “just give it to them.”

She could. All she has to do is unravel the rope at her chest and hand it over. Maybe it’ll be enough, maybe it won’t. Kim Possible can do anything, after all, even betray her values to save her own skin.

Shego’s fingers dig into her shoulder like iron. “ _Kim_.”

“I can’t, Shego.” Her hands tremble. “I just—I can’t.”

The slow, deadly _click_ of the hammer sounds like a closing coffin lid. Will someone write about her death? Will anyone even care? Will they know why? She grits her teeth. The one on the left looks the weakest, his skin pockmarked and peeling, and maybe if she—

“Wait.”

Shego limps into the line of fire. “It’s money you want, right?”

Their leader eyes her curiously. “Perhaps.”

“Then…” she grimaces, “maybe we can make a trade.”

His eyes run up and down her battered, bleeding body. “What could be worth more?”

Shego reaches behind her back, coming up with a familiar blue stone. “How about a sapphire worth more than this entire village?”

Living in Andula gives one an acute awareness of how much precious gems are worth. Kim sees the exact moment his eyes glaze over with possibilities – the guards behind him jostle like salivating dogs. He reaches for it, but she pulls back.

“Nuh-uh. There’s no reason that you won’t just blow our heads open once I give it to you.”

She opens up her trade negotiations in Spanish. He startles, but immediately responds with his own terms. They bicker back and forth for what feels like an eternity as Kim’s life hangs in the balance. She tries not to move, to not even _breathe_ as they weigh how much a rock is worth.

Eventually, the chief _laughs_ , his eyes no longer hard. He reaches out to shake Shego’s hand and she only hesitates for a moment.

“We got a ride back to the lab,” Shego says, slipping the sapphire back into her pouch. “Come on.”

“Wh—“ Kim’s jaw drops. “What about—how—what did you say?”

“It’s more what I didn’t say.” Kim takes up position under her arm and they make their way out into the center of the village. A dusty pick-up truck idles by the door.

“Do we… keep the briefcase?”

“At the expense of probably close to three million dollars.” Shego clambers into the bed, not looking to see if Kim follows. They shut the back and start rolling.  

Halfway through the journey back, the warm wind whipping at their faces, the skies crack open under the weight of the rain. Fat, heavy droplets cascade down like a sheet; Shego tilts her face to the clouds and drinks it all in, washing the dirt from her skin until her suit turns black again.

Kim closes her eyes and basks in renewal, rejuvenation, rebirth. Her hands haven’t stopped shaking.

The heavens opening is accompanied by static. “-m, ca—me? K—im?”

She touches her earpiece. “Wade?”

“Kim! Thank god, I’ve been trying to get through for hours! Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m…” She glances over to Shego, lips parted, eyes half-shut in the blowing storm. “We’re okay. Heading back with the briefcase now.”

“I knew you could do it! I’ll let Mr. Stewart know… where should he pick you up?”

“He can land right on the beach. The locals won’t be a problem.”

“Are you sure, Kim? They’re pretty hostile.”

“Nah.” Kim chuckles. “Shego charmed them.”

“She—what?”

“I didn’t charm them, I bartered.”

“That’s just charming them with money.”

Shego pushes wet hair from her face. “Touché, Possible.”

Dr. Abdullah’s sci-fi laboratory rears up from the dark horizon like a spaceship. Kim helps Shego get out. They turn to the men who drove them, staring hungrily and expectantly, a dog knowing they’ll get a bone.

With a heavy sigh, Shego hands over the gemstone. They grin and put their weapons away, throwing the truck into reverse and disappearing back into the rain. At the same time as they leave, a more familiar noise descends on them from above – the hovercraft washes them in the blinding white glow of its headlights as it touches down on wet sand.

The hold opens. Kim gets Shego settled on the seat, turning back to the beach.

“I’m mad at you,” Shego murmurs, her eyes mostly shut.

“I know.”

“You were stupid.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

As Kim steps out onto the sand, Shego calls out.

“Kim?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t hate you.” Shego rustles as she changes positions. “Considering how much money I just lost, I wish I did, but… I don’t.”

Kim hides her smile, but not even the torrential rain can wash it away.

 


	6. distortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> distortion (n.): a twisted state of being, caused by the influence of large stellar bodies. the warping of your truth; your words; your reality.

By the time the hovercraft touches down on Possible property, it is well past dusk. The rain of yesterday gave way to a starry sky that beams coldly upon Middleton’s favoured hero, eclipsed by the blinding lights that wash Kim’s front lawn in white. Shego takes Kim’s hand, still half-asleep, heavy and lax over Kim’s shoulder.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Stewart,” Kim calls as the hatch opens.

He waves one meaty hand. “No problem, little lady. You take care.”

The hatch unlocks, and they take three steps down the ramp before the front door opens. Two figures rush out – Kim and Shego barely make it out of the hold before Anne is there, wiping dried mud from Kim’s cheek and cupping her face in her hands.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Anne pulls them both in for a crushing hug. “When Wade said he lost contact, we thought the worst.”

“It takes more than that to put a Possible down,” Kim buries her face in her mom’s shoulder.

James materializes at her other side, a relieved hand on the back of her head. Shego stiffens and leans away.

“Let’s get you inside. I kept dinner for you – the twins are pulling an all-nighter with Wade, so there’s plenty of leftovers.”

Bits of muck shed from them like scales as they migrate into the house. They rock back and forth with Shego’s pronounced limp, but she doesn’t make even a single syllable of complaint as Kim sets her down at the breakfast nook. Her fingers linger anxiously on Shego’s bicep, but the older woman shakes her head.

_I’m fine._

Kim fills her parents in as they sit in the kitchen. Shego drinks the entire jug of water put on the table, washing the salt from her cracked lips. The clock blinks nine-thirty.

Anne touches Shego’s knee. “How’s your ankle?”

“Hurts.”

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

Kim fires up the microwave, soles whisper-quiet on the tile. James quietly reads a newspaper next to Shego, whose eyes shut at every given opportunity. The only indication of consciousness comes from the slow, rhythmic tap of her fingers against her side.

Just as Kim starts the second plate, the door flies open.

“Kim!”

A body skids around the corner. “I heard about Andula and that something went wrong and you aren’t hurt are you—” Ron chokes. Shego’s fingers stop moving, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

The kitchen hangs in a stifling silence. Even James feels it, his hands crinkling in his paper, but Ron turns sheet-white in the few seconds that pass. His eyes crawl across the space, passing over Kim and her filthy state, never straying too long from Shego’s quiet form.

With a long, tired sigh, Shego opens her eyes.

“Surprise.”

It breathes life back into Ron. “Shego! In the kitchen!” He immediately falls into fighting stance. Shego doesn’t even bother to bring her fists up. “Why is she in the kitchen?! Why—no, doesn’t matter! I’ll save you!”

“Ron, don’t—"

He moves faster than Kim’s ever seen. Shego brings her good foot up to block him, but he swerves out of the way. His fists bunch in her catsuit and raise her ever so slightly out of her seat.

“I’ve had a _real_ bad day, buffoon. Let go or I burn off your fingers.”

“Ronald!” James says sharply. “Stop that this instant.”

“But—"

“Shego is a guest. We do _not_ wrestle the guests.”

“A _guest_?” His grip relaxes, and she wrenches away. “Scary dragon lady is a _guest_?”

He turns to Kim for support, but she averts her eyes. Shego crosses her arms. “You heard him. A guest about to eat dinner, thanks.”

Anne walks back into the kitchen, first-aid kit in hand. “What’s this about wrestling the guests?”

“Mrs. Dr. P!” Ron runs up to her. “Why is Shego here? Is she holding you hostage? Did she mind-control you?” He gasps. “Is it the shampoo again? Let me smell your hair!”

She leans away. “You heard right, Ronald. Shego is staying here for a little while.”

“But—wh—h—I— _Shego?_ ”

Anne inches over towards Shego, extending a hand. “Maybe we should take a look at that in the living room. Give them a chance to talk.”

“I’ll help,” James says, hurriedly tucking his paper under his arm and picking up Shego’s plate. The sand tracked in from the plane shifts with the wind of his escape.

Kim makes a pained nose in the back of her throat.

“You read my mind, doc,” Shego grunts, gathering herself. A shower of dust frees itself from the creases of her catsuit as she stands. Ron’s eyes fall to her swollen ankle as Anne takes up the role of support.

Kim and Shego brush shoulders on the way out - Shego grimaces in a way that could pass for sympathy. “I promise not to eavesdrop. Actively.”

Her bare foot leaves only the slightest of prints as she and Anne exit. Kim keeps her gaze on them, jaw clenched so hard she can feel the tendons in her neck rise up and out, until Ron can’t hold his tongue any longer.

“KP, what the _hell_? What’s going on with your parents? _Shego? A guest?_ Are we in some alternative universe?”

“Alternate,” Kim corrects before doubling back. “And no, Ron. We’re not. Shego, she… she needs my help.”

He scoffs. “The only thing Shego needs is a jail cell. And maybe some plasma dampeners. _And_ declawing, like what they do to house cats.”

Kim stays silent. She worries the grapple hook at her wrist, unspooling and respooling it, until Ron looks at her closely.

“Wait a minute… you’re serious.”

He whips out his Kimmunicator, brow furrowed.

“Ron, what are you doing?”

“She must’ve mind-controlled you,” he mutters. “Wade will know what to do.”

“I’m not mind-controlled. I’m doing this because I want to help.”

He shudders. “You even _sound_ like you. Drakken really outdid himself this time.”

Wade pops up on the screen, framed by a halo of sparks in the background. Jim and Tim’s laughter floats through the speakers. “Hey, Ron! What’s up?”

“I need you to do a scan on Kim,” Ron says, pointing the watch away.

“Why?”

“Because right now, as we _speak_ , Shego is in her living room having polite conversation with Mrs. Dr. P! It’s just too whack for it to be anything other than mind-control. I thought it was the shampoo again, but there’s no weird smell…”

Wade glances at Kim. “Cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

“Cat shredded the bag and is now putting muddy paws all over the carpet.”

“Yikes.”

Ron turns his watch back over. “Wait, _you_ knew about this too?”

“Um… how about that scan now?”

“Wade!”

“Look, I don’t know anything either! I just thought Kim picked Shego up for a mission. Or something. Which sounds even stranger than the living room sitch, now that I think about it.”

A blue light pops out of Ron’s Kimmunicator, bathing the underside of his jaw in blue. “You still want the test?”

Ron levels his watch. Kim sighs and spreads her arms out, allowing the light to slowly crawl up and down her body. After a few moments, one of Wade’s screens ping.

“Nope, no… huh.”

“What?” Kim and Ron say at the same time.

“Oh, just a little… I’ll get back to you. But definitely no mind control. Talk soon!”

He disappears from the screen. The microwave beeps to announce that Kim’s food is finished, but she makes no move towards it.

Ron’s mouth moves for a few seconds before sound comes out. “Even Wade knew?”

“I was going to tell you, Ron. I promise. Wade found out by accident.”

“Like I’m finding out now?”

Kim rakes her hands through her hair. Her fingers get caught in the sweaty knots at the back of her neck. “We _just_ got back! I wanted to sleep first, to figure some things out so maybe I had some answers—”

“Got back from where? Andula?” Realization skirts across his face and turns it into a scowl. “I was gone for five minutes, and you took _Shego_ to Andula? _Shego?_ ”

“I had no choice! You were with Yori, Monique wasn’t available and Wade wouldn’t let me go alone.”

“What, so now this is my fault?”

“No! This isn’t anyone’s _fault_. Shego was there, so I took her. We completed the mission. End of story.”

“Are you kidding? That’s, like, the beginning of the story! What about the prologue? What were you doing with Shego? What is she doing _here_ and not with GJ? Why the hell are you defending her, your sworn nemesis, woman who has _nearly killed you_?”

Kim pours herself a glass of water. Her mouth is ash-dry, but the thought of drinking makes her stomach flip. “I told you, she needs my help. Our help.”

“With what? Taking over the world?”

“Why can’t you just trust me?” Kim groans. “Everyone else does. Is my word not good enough for you now?”

“Your words aren’t making sense, Kim! Why don’t you want to tell me what she wants? Is she blackmailing you? Is that why you’re protecting her?”

“Maybe it’s because I respect other people’s privacy!”

A swirl of blue shimmers over his clenched fists. “You said we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other. Are you seriously gonna do this? For _her_?”

Kim’s jaw flickers. “Do I have to remind you that Yori showed up in my living room, unannounced _to me_ , like four days ago?”

“That’s _different_ , and you know it. Having Shego over for tea is not the same thing as Yori coming to—"

 

 

Kim throws her hands up. “She’s sick, Ron! Something’s wrong with her. She came to me for help and I couldn’t turn her away, not after everything that’s happened.”

He rocks back a little, as if struck. An incredulous laugh leaves his mouth: it sounds wrong, coming from him. “Sick? Shego, sick? The same Shego that survived after you kicked her into a radio tower? The same Shego that beat the _complete shit_ out of you nearly a month ago? She seems fine to me.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“Clearly.” Ron snips.

“I’m sorry, Ron! Is that what you want? An apology? I _know_ I screwed up by not telling you, and I’m sorry and you’re allowed to be mad at me, just… if you don’t believe her, believe me.”

He peers at her for a tense moment. “Do you seriously not get it?”

“Not get what?”

“I don’t care that you didn’t tell me,” he says, before pausing. “Well no, I do. That was seriously uncool. But you know what’s even un-cooler than that? Taking a crazy woman as your new sidekick the second your best friend steps away—because he’s training to protect you from said crazy woman!”

Kim tugs at her hair again, more viciously this time. The sting takes away from the dull tension headache starting to wrap around both temples. “Don’t you try and pin this completely on me! I _told_ you it wasn’t necessary, but you pushed it.”

“Because you keep losing to the crazy woman in your living room!”

“Stop calling her that!” Kim points a finger in his face. “And stop pretending like I can’t defend myself at all. Just because you’ve got Monkey Mojo now doesn’t mean I suddenly need your protection like some damsel in distress.”

“You nearly—”

“—died, yes, Ron. I nearly died. I know! I think about it all the time! But you know what I also think about? The fact that I _also_ almost died in Andula. Twice. But you know who saved me? Shego. It would’ve been so much easier to let me die, but she didn’t.”

He rakes his hands down his face. “Because she wants something from you!”

“Yeah, to get better! Which is why she’s here!”

Throughout their argument, they’d unknowingly been pacing the kitchen, always facing each other, tense like two duelists about to face off under the fluorescent lighting. Now, skin prickling, Kim stands between him and the living room. Ron has this glint to his eyes that Kim’s never seen, and the hair at her nape stands on end.

“I don’t understand why you can’t accept it like the others,” Kim growls. “Even my mom is giving her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Someone’s gotta remember how the world works. Villains can’t turn into heroes, no matter how well they’re behaving for an audience.”

“Why won’t you _listen_?” Kim resists the urge to kick the counter. “You’re right, Shego isn’t a hero. She’s still a villain. But she’s not _pretending_ to be good to get close to me, or whatever other insane theory you’ve come up with. We both know that if she wanted to kill me, I’d be already dead!”

“So, what’s your plan?” He crosses his arms – he’s a few inches taller than her, but he still looks… small. “She gonna hang out here? Go get ice-cream and pedicures like when she was Miss Go so you can be best buds all over again?”

“What? Ron, no. You’ll always be my best friend. Shego is just… a temporary houseguest.”

“She’s _sleeping_ here?” He stares at her. “Are you sure she’s not blackmailing you?”

“Why would she use blackmail to sleep in the one house she doesn’t want to sleep in?”

“I don’t know, KP! She’s slippery. Slimy, even. Maybe I should sleep over until she leaves.”

Kim’s eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“No offense, Kim, but you aren’t exactly showing great judgment of what is necessary.”

“ _Actually_ ,” Kim grinds out, “full offense. I’m exhausted, starving, and still have sand in my suit from when I nearly died. So why don’t you tell me about my lapse in judgment?”

Ron grimaces a little. “I just mean… what if she attacks you in the night? She’s probably crawling in the vents taking pictures and stuff, doing recon, now that you’re all close again and she can walk around like—"

“No!” Kim stomps her foot – the cutlery trembles. “I have _had it_ with your… your… paranoid _bullshit_ , Ron! I don’t know what it is about Shego that gets you so worked up, but you’re acting like she’s going to flay me alive the second I turn my back! She might be a villain, she might be a _thief_ , but we both know she’d never do something so dishonourable.”

“Do we? What about Eric?”

Even after all this time, it still hurts. Kim isn’t sure if the wound will ever heal completely – especially not with people picking it back open just to prove a point.

“That was different,” she says through clenched teeth. “And if we’re just going to be bringing up old insecurities, I think you should leave.”

Ron recoils. “Kim, I just…” he reaches out to her, and then thinks better of it. “I just don’t get it. Why did she need _you_? Out of everyone in the entire world, all the super-geniuses and mad scientists, she chose you. There has to be a catch.”

“And if there is, I’ll take responsibility. But she came to _me_ , which means I have final say… and I say she stays. For now.”

He goes very still, another flare of blue rustling the fabric of his shirt. His eyes spark with it, just once, and unease threads down Kim’s spine.

“I want to talk to her first,” he says, his voice strange and distant.

Her foot instinctively goes back, an anchor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m sorry, KP, but I can’t. This isn’t right.”

He isn’t looking at her, but the pocket of space between her left side and the counter.

“Ron, I—”

Ron lunges, hurtling towards the gap. His body is extended, arms reaching out to carry him across the threshold and through the other side, but Kim fills his space at the last second. He bounces, coming up in a fluid roll, this time making a leap off the other counter to travel above her.

Kim takes a half-second to admire how far he’s come as he makes the jump. Four years ago, it might’ve gotten past her.

She intercepts him just as he gets airborne, grabbing his shirt and using his momentum to swing him all the away around and back where he started. Ron staggers, taking a few unsteady steps back, and Kim takes his flailing arms in her grip.

He twists sharply, squirming to get away – Ron frees one of his wrists, but Kim’s right hand doesn’t even budge. She pulls his elbow towards her with her other hand and torques his wrist, pinning it against her chest. Kim’s foot snakes behind his, and he has no choice but to topple back when she moves forward.

Slowly, never breaking eye-contact, Kim folds Ron into the kitchen chair. His breath buffets her face, harsh and hot and ragged.

“I think,” she says again, quiet but not soft, “you should leave.”

The blue light vanishes, and he loses the grit in his gaze. Ron opens his mouth only to shut it again. His bones creak where Kim’s fingers dig.

After an eternity, he sags. His eyes dart to the side and stay there, not moving even as Kim releases him and steps back. Ron slowly climbs to his feet, cradling his wrist – she didn’t push too hard, but the sudden white-hot lance of guilt through her chest doesn’t care about that.

His mouth trembles.

“I—” he chokes back the rest of the sentence like it pains him. His eyes catch the overhead light, glistening, and Kim sees one lone tear travel down Ron’s cheek as he bolts from the kitchen.

In his haste to leave, the door slams. Kim takes a few shaky steps back before collapsing in the kitchen nook.

She holds her hands out in front of her, curling them both into fists. The scar tissue tugs. Her fingers begin to tremble so she only clenches them harder, lashing out with one frustrated fist at the nearest object: the kitchen counter.

With a deafening _crack_ , the counter’s corner explodes into granite shards and stones. Kim coughs as she inhales dust.

“Fuck!” she hisses, pounding her other fist against the mangled rock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It hurts, but she keeps going.

* * *

 

Shego jolts awake as the door slams. She lifts her head, half-slipping from being propped in her palm.

Anne’s medical kit is neatly unboxed on the ottoman beside her. The woman in question turns, cloth in one hand and painkillers in the other, and glances up into Shego’s startled gaze.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says, moving the cloth just over Shego’s skin.

Shego flexes her fingers in the couch, and then nods. Anne puts the cloth to her shin.

“I’m surprised I slept through it,” Shego admits. “Nothing like a super-powered argument to make me feel at home.”

Anne hesitates but eventually chooses not to comment. Shego gratefully extends her leg, allowing the doctor to finish cleaning her in silence. She resists the urge to kick as it runs up the bottom of her sole, head tilted to hide the uncomfortable flush in her cheeks.

When Anne puts the cloth down, the picture of professionalism, she goes through many of the same motions Kim did. Flex your foot, wiggle your toes. Shego’s ankle is as big as a softball, hot and tender to the touch.

“There’s a possibility it could be broken, but we won’t know for sure without an x-ray.” Anne eyes her. “Kim conveniently left out how you hurt it.”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No, but tell me anyway.”

Shego smirks. “She fell out of a plane and I went after her.”

Anne puts the heat-pack on her a little forcefully.

“She _fell_ out of a plane?”

“Well, maybe I’m not giving her enough credit. She got blasted out when someone shot a rocket at us.”

Anne begins to wind the compression bandage around her foot, cheeks a little paler than usual. Though her touch is sure, it seems distant. Shego’s smirk fades.

Outside, the air is so still and crisp that Shego can see the hills beyond the property, moonlight glistening to give them mountain’s edges. No clouds but the woods alive with creatures; fireflies winking in the brush, crickets calling in the night. A sudden wave of homesickness grips her, like it used to when she was younger, nearly nauseous with its force.

Shego shifts uneasily as the silence continues. Anne finishes wrapping her ankle and opens the painkillers, stopped by Shego’s fingers light on her sleeve.

“Look, I’m…” she grimaces, “sorry. I like to get a rise outta people. Habit.”

Anne shakes her head. “It’s not you, Shego. If anything, I should be thanking you – I _am_ thanking you. You did exactly what I asked.”

“I dunno if asked is the right word…”

“Maybe not, but you did it anyway. I have a feeling you don’t like following orders.”

Shego pops the painkillers without any water. They stick on the way down.

“We’ll help you,” Anne says, folding her hands in her lap. “A promise is a promise.”

“Were you not expecting to deliver?”

“Not really. I mean no offense, Shego, but you’re not exactly the most…”

“Kind? Trustworthy? Loyal?”

“ _Upfront_ about your intentions. I had to make sure you were serious.”

Shego blinks. Anne packs away her first-aid kit and adjusts Shego’s bandage. “No testing until your ankle is fully healed. If it doesn’t improve in a week, I’m taking you in for an x-ray whether you like it or not.”

“Don’t worry doc, it’ll heal. I always do.”

Anne gives her a strange look. “I’ll pick up some crutches for you at work tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Anne nods, half-way up the stairs. “Shego?”

“Yeah?”

“Go easy on Kimmie. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them fight like that.”

_Great. An ex-lover’s quarrel. The only thing worse than a couple._

“No promises,” Shego climbs to her feet, “but I’ll give her a little bit to simmer in despair before I burst her bubble. Can I use the shower? I’ve got so much sand up my crack you could call me Mariana’s Trench.”

Anne’s mouth twitches. “I’ll have to redo your bandages.”

“I can probably keep it out of the water.”

“Oh, no.” Anne keeps slow pace with Shego as they both ascend the stairs. “I’m not having you fall and break your neck in my guest bathroom.”

“Y’know, I can rewrap it myself. My foot is broken, not my hands.”

“Call it physician’s instinct. Go rinse off and stop tracking sand all over the house.”

Shego sighs. “Yes, doctor.” 

* * *

 

With every shift of Kim’s arm through the moonlight, her suit changes colour. Blue, to black, to blue, to black again. She watches it mindlessly, a fine stone dust trickling through her clenched hand and smeared over her cheeks. Every time the blue reappears, it catches the light of her Kimmunicator, and Ron’s name pops onto the screen like a punishment.

_Call Ron?_

“You look like you’re going through a divorce.”

Freshly bandaged and now in shorts and a loose sleep-shirt, Shego limps into the kitchen. Her hands skate across the counters for balance, first-aid kit tucked under her arm.

“Not now, Shego,” Kim mutters, looking away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Shego reaches inside the microwave and takes Kim’s plate, sitting heavily on the opposite chair. She spares a glance at the broken countertop before returning her eyes to the incoming mouthful of brainloaf.

“Your mom’s gonna ask what happened to her kitchen.”

“Yeah. And I’ll tell her the truth.”

A car honks in the distance. Shego takes another bite of her food before carefully crossing her legs, bandages whispering.

Kim suddenly feels every inch of her skin covered by the battlesuit. She touches the zipper almost desperately to release its snake-like squeeze. Shego unabashedly runs her gaze down Kim’s jaw to collar; there’s nothing malicious about it, nothing judgmental, but Kim shivers anyway.

She winces as she peels away the gloves. It sticks to the palm of her hand, sharp and wet. A long, angry gash opens the flesh at the base of her fingers, inches away from her scar.

“White isn’t a great colour for someone in our work, huh?”

“It’ll wash,” Kim murmurs, gingerly touching her thumb to the shallower cuts that split open the middle-pads of her fingers. “I didn’t even notice in the suit.”

Shego nudges the first-aid kit towards her. “Guess I’m not the only one that needs some TLC.”

Kim takes the tweezers and so carefully pulls a sliver of metal out of her palm. It pulls part of the scab with it and starts leaking, sluggish.

Kim goes to the sink, cool water draining pink into the basin. She carefully rubs her flesh clean with soap, getting under her nails and between her fingers. Slowly, she starts to clear away the accumulated blood and dead skin, split open and fused back together through the stress of the past few days. It doesn’t hurt like it should.

Shego watches in silence as Kim returns to her seat, clumsily unwrapping the gauze and curling her fist around it, dabbing ointment on the worst of the wounds.

_No jungle fever, thank you._

It’s hard getting the cling bandage around to secure it with one hand. Kim tries to use her mouth, but her teeth catch in the fine threads and rip little holes in the weave. She grunts and attempts to pin it against the table for better leverage.

“It’s like watching a toddler try and open a medication bottle,” Shego sighs, shifting closer to Kim. “Gimme.”

Kim offers her half-curled fist, hardly daring to breathe as Shego takes it. Her fingers are nimble and warm against Kim’s water-cooled skin, practiced.

“You’re good at this,” Kim says as Shego finishes, carefully tucking the remainder of the wrap to hold it in place.

“I have to be,” Shego replies. She gently uncurls Kim’s hand and inspects the shallower wounds in her fingers. “No one else does it for me.”

“Even when you were a hero?”

She snorts. “I was the one that patched my brothers up. None of them could stomach it.”

Shego takes out four band-aids, starting from her smallest finger. Each one is covered in the same way, inspecting each time to make sure it isn’t deeper than it looks. Her brows are drawn in concentration, a small furrow in the middle, and Kim’s pulse throbs in her throat each time Shego changes grip.

She’s never had her so close without fighting for her life; Kim looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. _Calm down. You’re fine. Everything is fine._

“He’ll come back,” Shego says eventually, noticing her sigh. “He’s too devoted not to.” 

“It—” Kim’s mind stutters as it changes gears. “It was awful. I didn’t even think.”

“What happened?”

A neighbour walks his dog on the street outside. Kim and Shego watch, silhouetted by the soft yellow glow of the room. “I just grabbed him and made him sit down. He couldn’t get away. It was like a stupid display of dominance from those nature documentaries that Rufus makes us watch.”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Not—not physically. But the way he looked at me…”

“So, you did.”

Kim levels her glare. Shego shrugs one shoulder, letting go of Kim’s hand and going back to her plate. “Not saying you did anything wrong. Just that you hurt his feelings.”

“How isn’t that the same thing?”

“Life isn’t fair. People get hurt, even if you do everything right.”

“That’s…” Kim rolls a stone shard between her fingers, “depressing.”

“But am I wrong? No.” Shego points the fork at her. “You get old like me, you start to realize even good people get screwed sometimes.”

“Old? I thought you were just cranky from birth.”

“That’s because you didn’t know me before the comet.”

Kim’s fingers stop moving. Shego’s eyes widen, just a little, before they dart back down to her food.

Kim’s thoughts boom in the quiet. With each scrap of insight Shego tosses, given thoughtlessly yet freely, she becomes ravenous for more. Every answer just leads into another question. The woman is a puzzle: the more pieces Kim has, the harder they are to fit together. Will she ever have the full picture?

Still, Kim softens. She’s learned more about her in the past two days than she has in years – more, she realizes, than most people know at all.

So she swallows all the other things she’s aching to ask and says, instead: “I’d like to know you now.”

Shego’s fork freezes. Kim fights past the hot, anxious thing in the pit of her chest. “Ron doesn’t think you deserve our help, but I don’t believe that. I’ve… ever since Hong Kong, we… it’s different. I don’t really know why, or how, but it is. I know you feel it too.”

Shego viciously sculpts the mashed potatoes on her plate. She makes a hill before crushing it into a plain, only to start over again. “Nobody will believe you.”

“They won’t believe that you gave me superpowers, either. But they will.”

“…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

Shego looks at her for a long moment. “I’ve had a lot of bad shit happen in my life, Kim. I don’t _do_ friends.”

Kim shrugs. “Then we don’t have to be friends. Allies can be enough.”

Shego leans back, face impassive. The kitchen light flickers. Outside, the moon peeks through the very edge of the forest. One half of her body glows silver – the other, gold.

“Maybe just start at acquaintances.”

That thing in the center of her chest unravels, turns from anxious to excited. Kim grins and sticks out her hand.

“I’m Kim Possible. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Shego stares at her outstretched hand like she’s expecting it to hit her. Kim keeps beaming until a twitch of a smile starts on Shego’s lips.

“… you’re a dumbass, Kim Possible.”

Kim reaches forward for Shego’s hand – the older woman doesn’t resist, and Kim doesn’t bother to hide her pleasure as she clasps their hands together. Her scar throbs with memory, with resonance. She pumps their arms up and down in a vigorous shake.

Shego laughs, clear and caught by surprise, and for a moment Kim’s troubles float away.

* * *

 

Four days later and the weather finally breaks. Sun pours back into the Possible living room and soaks into the carpet, the furniture, and splashes along the walls. Shego has her face tilted up to catch every shred of its warmth, much like a cat day-drunk on sunlight.

 _Feline is a good adjective for Shego,_ Kim muses, pen wobbling between her fingers. The lines of Shego’s body, backlit in gold, cast a lithe shadow. _Maybe just a little more panther than housecat._

“Eyes on your own work, star student,” Shego murmurs, one eye opening lazily. She stretches, uncaring of how her shirt rides up, before draping her arms over the back of the couch.

“Are you bored yet?” Kim asks instead, abandoning her physics worksheet. Yet another thing on her growing list of problems to ignore. “You’ve survived a week in the suburbs, I thought you’d be dead. Or insane.”

“Sanity is relative and overrated,” Shego responds. “And besides, I’m not _supposed_ to be doing anything. Who am I to ignore a direct order from a person of authority?”

“The poster child of disobedience?”

“That’s hurtful, Kim. I’m an adult.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Kim says, grinning as she dodges a poke from Shego’s crutch. Her ankle isn’t quite back to normal, and though it looks less like a grapefruit, there’s still some interesting green-grey mottling that Kim glimpsed only once as Shego changed her bandage.

It also means Kim can, quite literally, walk circles around Shego. Which she does. Often.

“KIIIIIM!” The cry comes from upstairs – Jim, she thinks. She’s never sure.

“What?” she hollers back. There’s a rapid _thunk-thunk-thunk_ as one pair of feet skid to the top of the stairs.

“There’s a scary looking lady here!” Tim pants, still in pyjamas.

Kim’s eyebrow cocks. “What, scarier than the one doing her best impression of a solar panel?”

“She’s got an eyepatch!”

The main TV turns onto their security feed just in time to see the familiar Global Justice blues fill the lens. A moment later, the doorbell chimes softly.

Kim blanches. “Doctor Director! What’s she doing here? What—no, doesn’t matter.” She shoves Shego’s crutches into her hands. “Go upstairs! Hide!”

Shego hauls herself to her feet. “Betty’s got a lot of nerve making a house-call. Couldn’t she just warp you into HQ or whatever she does?”

The doorbell rings again. “Coming!” Kim shouts, ushering Shego to the stairs.

“Don’t be difficult,” Kim hisses, “just go. And be _quiet_.”

Shego reaches out before she retreats, brushing a lock of Kim’s hair over her ear. Kim grabs her wrist and holds it there with a scowl. “What are you—”

“I’m nosy, doy,” Shego says, a smirk on her lips. Her little black earpiece now sits, snug and invisible, in Kim’s ear. “And you’re awful at lying.”

Shego’s tendons flutter under Kim’s fingers – Kim searches her face, but she’s surprisingly open.

“You gonna let go now?”

Kim recoils, smoothing her hair. Shego follows Tim up the stairs, using her arms to leap steps at a time while he holds her crutches. As Kim takes a deep breath and starts to the door, Shego’s voice comes on over the earpiece.

_“Just act natural.”_

“Easy for the career criminal to say,” Kim replies before opening the front door. “Dr. Director! This is a surprise!”

“Ms. Possible,” Dr. Director says warmly, extending her hand. Kim shakes it. “I’m sorry to drop in unannounced. Am I intruding?”

“ _Yep.”_

“Not at all,” Kim smiles, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”

She takes her into the kitchen, quickly clearing off the six plates still left unwashed from breakfast. Kim starts the percolator – there was a fancy-looking coffee machine in Dr. Director’s office last time she was called in.

Dr. Director glances at the dishes. “Do you have guests?”

Kim turns her back to grab some mugs. “No, uh. My dad… invited a colleague over before he went to work.”

“ _If you sound like you actually believe your lie, it’ll work better.”_

“Not all of us can come up with something on the spot,” Kim hisses, the mugs clinking together.

“What was that?”

“Just talking to myself!” Kim clears her throat and puts the mugs on the counter. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

Dr. Director smiles a little, resting her clasped hands on the table. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“It crossed my mind, yes.”

“It came to my attention that you went on a mission to Andula a few days ago.”

Kim swallows. “Keeping tabs on me?”

“We’re an intelligence agency, Ms. Possible. We wouldn’t be very good at what we do if we didn’t keep track of our… valuable assets.”

“I don’t appreciate being spied on, Doctor Director.”

_“Less hostile. You don’t want her to think you have something to hide.”_

“Oh, not at all. We knew only because of _where_ you went, not because it was you. Not initially.”

Kim tilts her head. “You have people in Andula?”

“Are you surprised? It’s a hotbed of crime and human rights violations; half of South America is ready to go to war over it.”

“I just didn’t see them, is all I meant.”

“If you did, then they aren’t doing their jobs.”

“Point taken.” The coffee growls behind Kim. “So, what did they say?”

“That there was utter pandemonium at dawn when two women – one positively identified as hero Kim Possible – appeared out of nowhere and successfully fought off seven soldiers for Dr. Raif Abdullah’s stolen blueprints. And _then_ they paid off the village that would have seen a cut of its profit, but not before single-handedly bringing down the plane they were escaping in.”

Dr. Director raises a brow. “It seems like an exaggeration, but after working with Team Possible I had to come find out for myself.”

“It was no big,” Kim starts, but then shakes her head. “Actually, it was kinda big. It turned out to be a lot more complicated than I thought.”

“How so?”

“ _Easy on what you give away. Stick to what she should already know.”_

“Wade prepped me for it, but the level of conflict there was… awful. I’ve never seen a place so desperate, and I’ve been to some pretty bad places.”

“Andula is a perfect storm,” Dr. Director agrees. “No oversight, priceless resources, and unchecked greed. Most agents can only be assigned there for a year or two before the conditions become overwhelming.”

“I can see why. Using their own government to keep their people down?” Kim sucks on her teeth. “It’s despicable. Why haven’t you intervened?”

“We’re playing the long game, Ms. Possible. Andula is… delicate.”

“But you _know_ what’s going on there, you have proof. Can’t you stop it? I thought _Global_ Justice had _global_ power.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Too forceful of a move, and all of South America will jump on us. Technically, Andula isn’t beholden to UN law, so our official reach is much more limited. We’ve had to go in quietly.”

Coffee finishes streaming into the pot. Kim turns her back and hunches her head down.

“Why are we keeping information from the leader of Global Justice?” Kim hisses. “She’s one of the only people that could _help_ the island.”

“ _We aren’t focused on helping the island, Princess. We’re **focused** on making sure I don’t leave in chains.”_

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t do both.”

_“Andula’s been around for over thirty years. If she could help, don’t you think she woulda by now?”_

“She just told us why she couldn’t.” The mugs click together loudly as Kim sloshes the coffee around.

_“And you believe her?”_

Kim frowns but says nothing.

_“I’m not saying she’s up to no good, but all these government types are the same: real crafty at masking their intentions. Why a house-call? Why now, and not immediately after the mission while it was still fresh? Call me paranoid, but something doesn’t add up.”_

“I’m not used to lying to authority. I don’t like it.” Kim spins around, smile in place and mugs in hand.

_“I know, but both of our asses are on the line. Just keep your guard up… and trust me. The less she thinks you know, the better.”_

Kim places Dr. Director’s mug on the table before taking a seat. Kim stirs in her milk as Dr. Director takes a sip, black.

“How did Dr. Abdullah know to contact you?”

“My website, just like everyone else.”

“He wrote the request?”

“Who else?”

Dr. Director shakes her head. “I’m just surprised he contacted you first. He has private security.”

“His lab was really fancy,” Kim muses. “You’d think they’d give him better protection for that kind of money.”

“A lot of funds don’t end up being used for their proper purpose in Andula. The doctor is just another example.”

_“That happens everywhere. It’s called corruption.”_

“Is he still there?”

“I believe his sponsors moved him after you retrieved his information.”

“Oh,” Kim frowns, “that sucks. We were hoping he could stay there if we got his stuff back.”

“You can only blow up so many government aircraft before the attention becomes dangerous, Ms. Possible.”

“We didn’t blow it up,” she protests, “someone shot us out of the sky.”

Dr. Director leans forward ever so slightly. “Who?”

“Not sure. One second the plane didn’t have a hole in it, and then it did. I got blasted out.”

“Is that why your hand is bandaged?”

“Oh, this?” Kim glances at her wrapped palm. “Yeah. I tried to catch myself.”

Dr. Director hums. “No problems after your incident in Hong Kong, I hope?”

Kim doesn’t need Shego whispering in her ear to keep her mouth shut about _that_ topic. “Nope. I just have bad luck, I guess.”

Dr. Director gives her a keen look, but eventually settles as Kim meets her gaze. A bead of sweat trickles down the hollow of her spine – she takes a hurried mouthful of coffee to mask her grimace.

“I don’t know about that, Ms. Possible. You’re very lucky to have made it out alive.”

“You’re telling me. I’ve never fought people with actual guns before. It’s… really scary, if I’m being honest.”

“Being faced with your own mortality?”

“Facing off against people who want to kill you first and gloat later. Supervillains always give you a chance to get away when they’re monologuing.”

“Why didn’t you abandon the mission, then? No one would have faulted you for realizing you were in over your head.”

Kim shrugs. “He asked for my help. I couldn’t let him down.”

“That attitude is why I’ve always wanted you as an agent,” Dr. Director says with a hint of a smile. “So earnestly devoted to the greater good.”

“No big.” Heat rises, red, to Kim’s face. “I just try and do what’s right.”

“Does your new ally think the same thing?”

“My new… what?”

Dr. Director quirks a brow.

Kim sighs. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.”

“Did you and Ron have a falling out?”

_“No. You’re fine.”_

“No,” Kim lies, “we’re fine. He just had to do some Monkey stuff with Yori.”

Dr. Director nods, her fingers drumming on her mug. “It’s not often we see you apart.”

“We’re different people. We can have interests outside each other.”

“Of course. I only meant it was unusual… especially someone that I’m unfamiliar with.”

_“Okay, showtime. Follow my lead and don’t be too defensive.”_

It’s Kim’s turn to arch her brow. “I thought you said you don’t watch me directly, Doctor.”

A sigh comes from the other side of the earpiece. _“And I thought **I** said don’t be too defensive.”_

“You misunderstand. I’m simply curious as to how you found such a skilled companion on short notice. From what I’ve been hearing, she was just as competent as you are.”

_“Damn right. What has she been hearing?”_

“What have you been hearing?”

Dr. Director’s head tilts a fraction. “That the two of you evaded detection until the opportune moment to strike, and then managed to fight or talk your way out of near-certain death. That kind of timing only comes from someone trained in it.”

“Why are you so sure it was someone new?”

“Mostly because – please excuse my bluntness – none of your other sidekicks match your skill level.”

“Partners,” Kim says automatically.

Dr. Director doesn’t even blink. “Partners, then. The agency would’ve remembered someone like her crossing our path before. Especially if she was with you.”

_“Shows what she knows. Tell her… you met me on an old mission. We kept in touch.”_

Kim licks her lips. “We met while I was on a mission back in high school. Even though we don’t get along sometimes, we connected instantly. She was the only person I trusted to come with me.”

“You’ve been on missions before?”

“In a sense.”

“Your partner – does she have a name?”

_“Velasquez.”_

“Velasquez.”

Dr. Director’s eyes don’t move, but Kim can almost see her burning the name into her memory. “And I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re being so vague?”

“Velasquez, she’s…”

“ _A vigilante.”_

“A-a vigilante.” Kim clears her throat. “She doesn’t want to be found, you know? Certainly not by government.”

Her pulse starts to rush in her ears, fast and only gaining momentum. She clenches her hands around her mug to stop them from shaking, careful not to shatter it.

Dr. Director frowns. “Vigilantism isn’t something Global Justice condones. Individuals perpetrating acts of violence isn’t justice, only vengeance.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t work for Global Justice,” Kim says with only the faintest tremor in her voice. Dr. Director’s eyes widen just a fraction; Shego laughs through her earpiece.

“ _Get her, Kimmie. Why is vigilantism any different than the shit you do?”_

 _A lot,_ Kim thinks, but wisely keeps her mouth shut.

“I suppose so,” Dr. Director concedes. She leans back in her chair – Kim hadn’t even noticed that she’d shifted forward. “If this Velasquez ever changes her mind, do ask her to contact us. Global Justice is always looking for more competent field agents.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Kim grimaces. “She’s happy with what she has.”

“Clearly. She must have a Mr. Load of her own if the reports are any indication.”

It’s bait, and Kim knows it. She still goes after it. “What do you mean?”

“There were reports of a powerful beam of light around the time that the plane went down; neither of you had parachutes, but you landed unharmed. Seems like a powerful piece of technology.”

There’s a glint in her eye that Kim would miss were she not looking for it. More sweat trickles down her neck, soaking into the collar of her shirt. “I-I don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid. I’m not the tech person.”

“Indeed.”

The ensuing silence breaks with the slow opening of the garage door. Kim lets out a hot, relieved breath, glimpsing Sadie’s purple chassis pulling into the driveway.  Dr. Director glances over.

“It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Are you sure?” Kim forces herself to ask. “I don’t mind speaking some more, even though I’m not sure what else I could tell you.”

“No, that’s quite alright. You’ve been a gracious host.”

Dr. Director stands and straightens out her uniform. Kim does the same, nearly knocking over the chair in her haste. It collides with the broken countertop – dusted, but still jagged and obviously damaged. She looks at it for the first time with a degree of interest.

“… the twins did it?” Kim offers, not quite managing to stop it from sounding like a question.

The door leading to the garage opens – Dr. Director nods. “I’ve seen their work. Explosive.”

“You’re telling me.”

Kim walks her to the front and shakes her hand when offered.

“Thank you for humouring me, Ms. Possible,” Dr. Director smiles, her single eye crinkling. “You’ve been a great help.”

_“Tell her you can be an even greater help getting that foot-long stick out her ass.”_

“It’s—” Kim clears her throat, “no problem, Doctor. Let me know if you have any more questions.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Dr. Director makes it halfway down the driveway before Kim calls her back. She glances over but doesn’t move, eyebrow arched expectantly.

“There was someone else there,” Kim says, “with the government. A man. He had red hair like me, so he looked out of place.”

Dr. Director watches Kim take a fortifying breath. “He executed the first villager. Just… shot him, point blank. It’s why everyone started shooting.”

Something flashes across Dr. Director’s face, so quick and subtle that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. It disappears before Kim can begin to process it.

“Noted,” she says, “thank you.”

And with that, Betty Director pivots crisply and begins walking to a previously unseen black car, idling quietly at the end of all the houses. Kim waits until she gets in to shut the door.

She presses her back against the wood and finally lets her legs tremble, clamping both hands over her mouth. A single, near-silent scream pushes against her palms; Kim hunches over as if to crush this nauseous thing in her throat. All the anxious energy she’d kept under guard rushes in and out in seconds.

Jim and Tim trip over themselves to come downstairs, careening towards her as she begins to straighten up. They’re both taller than her now, all lanky and awkward, but hang off her arms like they’re ten again.

“You did it!” they cry, jostling her around. “She’s gone!”

Kim steadies herself. “I just… lied to the head of Global Justice. The literal director of worldwide law enforcement.”

“And you totally—”

“—didn’t choke!”

“I have to admit,” Shego’s voice comes into Kim’s ear, but also travels down the stairs, “I’m impressed, sly. You weren’t awful out there.”

Her fingers curl around the wall before she swings into view, only one crutch tucked close to her side. A cunning smirk curls across Shego’s mouth. “We’ll make a liar out of you yet.”

Kim glowers, but there’s no weight behind it. “That better have been worth it.”

“I don’t think she’s caught the scent. Bustin’ your balls over Andula, though.”

Anne crosses the hallway, her white coat over one arm. She frowns. “Was that Betty Director?”

“Yeah,” say four voices at once.

“What did she want?”

“To know what Kim here was doing in Andula,” Shego pivots on her crutch. “But in my hugely skilled and competent opinion, she was a little _too_ interested.”

“Really?” Jim asks.

He and Tim start tugging Kim to the kitchen. “Are you sure?” Tim questions.

Kim sits heavily in the chair. Shego leans against the counter closest to her; the twins pull out what looks like a deconstructed remote from under the table.

“I hate it when you’re right,” Kim mutters, “but I think you might be.”

Shego leans forward, turning her ear to Kim. “What was that? I just need to hear that I’m right again.”

Anne sits a glass of water down on the table. Despite being in the kitchen, Shego stays away from the window.

Kim gulps it down and inhales a ragged breath. “I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

Her mother’s white coat brushes across Kim’s shoulders as Anne puts it away. She puts a comforting hand on the top of her head, warm. “The important thing is that she doesn’t know about Shego. You can sort out what everything else means later.”

“Can we help? We’ve been working with—”

“—Wade to make breaking into hidden files even easier.”

Anne frowns. “That sounds illegal.”

They look at each other. “Uhh… gotta go!” They run up the stairs as quickly as they came down, but not before snatching up enough snacks for four people.

Their door slams as Anne sighs. “I really should get their father to talk to them.”

She starts the kettle and breezes out of the kitchen. Kim and Shego stay facing each other, sweat still trickling (though lighter) down Kim’s temples.

“Please tell me I don’t have to do that again.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely have to.”

Kim groans, her head lolling back. The warm midafternoon sun prickles on her damp skin.

“Look on the bright side,” Shego says, “it’ll take something big before she comes back.” Her crutch pokes Kim in the ribs until she snatches it away, meeting Shego’s eyes with a half-hearted scowl.

“You? Telling me to look on the bright side?”

“How can I not be a little optimistic? I’m not in jail, the old waraxe doesn’t suspect a thing, and Little Miss Prim might actually be good with her tongue after all.” Shego’s smirk is positively wicked. “It’s the best news I’ve had all month.”

Kim covers her burning face with her hand. “Why do you have to be so embarrassing?”

“Because if I stop, I’ll die.”

“I’ll write a eulogy at your funeral. It’ll be… Shego: The Most Irritating Person Who Ever Lived.”

“Don’t forget charming, salacious, and absolutely stunning.”

“Of course.” Kim peers through her slotted fingers at Shego, caught in the shadow of the day. Her skin gleams ever so faintly in the snatches not covered by clothing and lends her an aura that shifts when she does. The lines of her shoulders are lax, her hip cocked lazily against the counter – so completely at ease, Kim can’t help but watch her. “I would never.”

“Good.”

The clouds pull back from the sun, and light washes over Shego like the tide. Her skin goes from the faintest grey to white like sun-dappled snow.

She hums. “Kimmie?”

“Hm?”

“’We connected instantly,’ huh?”

Kim squeezes her fingers shut so all she can see is blessed darkness. “I panicked!”

“Uh huh,” Shego’s smirk oozes into her voice. “Whatever you say, sly.”

The tap-tap of her crutch is soft as it leaves the kitchen, but her amusement lingers in the space long after she’s gone. Kim stays there, burning, until the sun disappears again and she’s left in a shadow of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: so... I graduated, but that didn't make my life much easier. now I've got a year left of more school to graduate again and it's hard but damn it, I like this story. stay tuned.


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